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. We won’t drag you away until you’ve been through the place from top to bottom. He had heard me sing—the fool thought himself in love with me. “And aren’t there fees to pay at the Imperial College?” her aunt was saying—a disagreeable question.
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