There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. “I am not sure,” Anna answered. Clotilde rushed out of the house, carrying her boy and tugging her girl by the ear. So the world is choked with waste and waiting daughters. He had the same dark eyes, though lighted by a fierce flame; the same sallow complexion; the same tall, thin figure, and majestic demeanour; the same proud cast of features.
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