"No such thing," rejoined the jailer; "he's coming on business. Clotilde rushed out of the house, carrying her boy and tugging her girl by the ear. She remained stonily in the middle of the hallway until the spinsters' door shut them from view … for ever. And imprinting a kiss upon his mother's cold lips, he left the room. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. "Raise your vice, and lave off coughin'," added Terence.
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