"It would avail him little if he did," replied Kneebone. 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. All that he had sown that afternoon with such infinite care was as nothing compared to this seed, cast without forethought. “I want my life to be beaten gold just in order to make it a fitting setting for yours. “It is like old times,” she said, “to hear these home truths. I’m not half smart enough for the West End.
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