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There were no mourners. A queer nut. But this was important. ’ A wary look came over her face, and Roding intervened. "I don't deserve it," he said, at length; "but I would have risked a thousand deaths to enjoy this moment's happiness. 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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