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. She realized that he was the sort of man one does not think much about at dinners. Shamefaced curiosities began to come back into her mind, thinly disguised as literature and art. " "Is that all!" retorted Jonathan.
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