The baby crawled towards them, seeking their blood. “My husband and all his friends are fools, and the life they lead is impossible for me. 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. ‘I thought as how it couldn’t do no harm, and as it turns out, it done me a bit of good. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious.
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