Clotilde rushed out of the house, carrying her boy and tugging her girl by the ear. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. All the king's horses and all the king's men could not undo what was done; nor kill the strange exquisite flower that had grown up in his own lonely heart. We two. Then she looked up at Brendon.
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