“Think of the mockery!” she said. 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. Time after time he reminded her of how powerless she would be without him, how unkind the world was towards single women. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. You know I am in love with you. She did not want to seem to shrink from conversation, but all sorts of odd questions were running through her mind. Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't.
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