” His arms were around her. McClintock wrote me about you; but all I needed was the sight of your face as it was a moment gone. “And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly. 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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