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. " "Ah!" shrieked Lady Trafford. . Sebastian snorted, “If it isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black!” “Your house is host to the lowest forms of life, those without morals! I will no longer allow my children to live 210 in such a house. ’ She sighed. He remained listening attentively.
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