But on Sunday he had been obliged to attend to certain matters for the nuns. 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. Huge trees obscured the view of it. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year.
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