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“What nonsense is this? What raving! My dear child, you DO live, you DO exist! You have this home. You shall lie upon your back; your head shall be covered; and your feet shall be bare. She remembered abruptly that she was really living upon his money. 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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