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. Yesterday!—who cared? To-morrow!—who knew? "Porpoise," she said, touching his hand. ” She smiled at the thought. "Excuse me," he said, plunging his fork into a fowl, and transferring it to his plate.
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