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’ Fury rippled again. " "From some of your associates?" "From your uncle, from my uncle,—Sir Rowland Trenchard. I was one of the few. ” She smiled at the thought. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. Ever since the young police officer had arrived on her doorstep the clock had started ticking faster. 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. .
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