If she returns to the house from which we took her, her companions will laugh at her and smother her with ridicule. It was a look that accorded very well with the hayloft setting that had come to mind. 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. At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. ” “You didn’t. Warm life was behind that always, even if it slept.
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