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. " "Poh! poh! say no more about it," rejoined the man hastily. Strange, I shouldn't know him when he called on me. In response to an almost imperative gesture from the nurse, Anna laid her hand upon his. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft.
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