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. Anna followed her finger, and looked back into her sister’s face. I—well, I borrowed Anna’s name. In the afternoon he probably loafs in his pajamas. The poor child! What frightful things she must have seen on that island of hers! The noise of crashing glass caused a diversion; and Ruth turned gratefully toward the sound.
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