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. "What say you to carrying her off, Captain?" suggested Blueskin. “I certainly knew him no better than you. I could not dream of loving you. He wanted her named Mary. ‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility.
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