“There, there, now. 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. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. Muffling up his face, Jack turned away; but he had not proceeded many steps when he heard a man reading aloud an account of his escapes from a newspaper. For a time they walked in silence. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me.
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