A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. Bottles and glasses usurped the place of dishes and plates. “How dare you? You are trying to kidnap my babies!” Clotilde demanded. ” She stopped with an air of interrogation. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. ‘Tell me, my boy. What was the wench at? Yet he could not maintain this stand off forever. CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought.
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