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. They were headed by an athleticlooking, swarthy-featured man, who was armed with a cutlass, which he waved over his head to cheer on his companions. I have work there. Did you really doubt if I knew?” “No.
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