“There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. His patient was distinctly of a different order of life. I shall have to discover one suitable. I don't want her hurt. Clotilde flew into a rage, crying, “How dare you lay claim to my children! I am their mother! This is a Godless house!” She accused. Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger. The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. Sulphurous poisons assaulted her nostrils as she threw the stone to one side of its resting place. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her.
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