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. "Eggs for me! You mistake, child. ‘And I don’t mind telling you it goes agin’ the grain with me to let you go free and all, missie. You must think it over. The pieces fell to the ground in a little white shower.
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