The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. CHAPTER XXIII. She knew now that he never would. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. 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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