Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. 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. Springing to his feet in an ecstasy of terror, he stumbled, and had well nigh realized his worst apprehensions. “Who took care of you after she died?” “My father.
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