They were at the corner of Pall Mall now, and had come to a standstill. Knap. “Forgive me,” he said. Somehow logic could not explain her. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. 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.
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