“You, too? Why were we born? mercy! oh! pray let me go to my sister.”
Dring! dring! dring! dring! dring! went the terrible bell.
The men were excited to fury by Rose’s hesitation; they each seized an arm, and tore her screaming with fear at their violence, from her knees up to her feet between them with a single gesture.
“Whose is the child?”
“You hurt me!” said she bitterly to Edouard, and she left crying and was terribly calm and sullen all in a moment.
“Whose is the child?” roared Edouard and Raynal, in one raging breath. “Whose is the child?”
“It is mine.”
CHAPTER XX.
These were not words; they were electric shocks.