He continued alternately to be tossed in the air, or rolled in the kennel until he was borne out of sight. 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. “To think that you were going to do it—and never said a word! You are a little thin, but except for that you look—you look better than ever. Where's the dining room? And, say, can I have some eggs? This jam-tea breakfast gets my goat.
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