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. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. "It's better," observed Sheppard, meaningly. "You'll get nothing out of me, I can promise you, unless you show a little more civility. But even you cannot alter her character. She had treated him badly; she had hurt him and her aunt; she had done wrong by their standards, and she would never persuade them that she had done right. ‘I should never have told you. The winter had turned sea and sky to a wet gray. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. ’ ‘I dare say you do,’ said the general, grim satisfaction overtaking his anger as his prophesy proved accurate.
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