Ireton," cried Jack, in accents of the most urgent entreaty, "before you take me hence, I implore you—if you would further the ends of justice—search this house. ” “I can’t work. There was nothing on her face to hint of the misery that brimmed her heart this morning. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. Clotilde’s stunning green eyes were reflected in the gazes of the tender young children, but their faces had been hollow and sunken, their hair matted, and their clothing in bad need of repair.
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