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It grew clear to her that throughout all her wild raid for independence she had done nothing for anybody, and many people had done things for her. 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. If she could have held it in, perhaps the Virgin Mary would have sent her a miracle as reward for her strength. “You must pack for me. Mr. Her senses were prickled when she felt a new pair of eyes upon her.
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