“Great!” Cathy squealed. 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. At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour. Always the other things remained. Only your pa knew as how I were the one as saw to you at the wet-nurse’s cottage, and he got a-hold of me and made me bring him to you. "You're mistaken, Winny.
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