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" "By no means," rejoined Wood, hastily. “Dear me! I wonder where Sir John picked her up. She heard their feet and muffled voices. Stanley changed his key. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. 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.
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