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She shattered the edifice he was building up of himself as a devoted lover, waiting only his chance to win her from a hopeless and consuming passion. The villagers were thronging to church. Wait!" He released himself from his aunt's embrace, ran to the trunk and fetched the old coat. 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. The evenings were dulcet and soft.
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