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. ’ ‘What husband?’ ‘Precisely. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. “What has he to do with it?” “He was your sister’s master—her friend. You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus Ward. Indeed, a note of weeping broke her voice for a moment as she burst out, “You know as well as I do that money was a loan!” “Loan!” “You yourself called it a loan!” “Euphuism. And, if it had not been for a taste for plotting, which was continually getting him into scrapes, he might have been accounted a respectable member of society. But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her. ” “Who says I don’t? Didn’t you used to live in Arkansas?” “Alabama. ” She shrugged her shoulders.
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