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. That is why Wall Street broke your father; he was honest. You steered and I rowed stroke. It’s the public entrance. And now I break the seals—for you. So completely! The oddest fitness! What is it made of? Texture of skin and texture of mind? Complexion and voice. And, without another word, he seized the table with both hands, and upset it; scattering plates, dishes, bottles, jugs, and glasses far and wide. She could not help but swoon a little.
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