’ Gerald’s eyes never left the girl. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. “We’re going to be found out someday. "Don't look at it, I entreat," she cried. Sheppard, if you please, Ma'am," interrupted the lad; "I allow nobody to call me Jack. 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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