Still, they bob up occasionally. But I don’t care; I haven’t a spark of shame. Montressor’s guests. Let’s go. 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. "Curse him!" muttered Abraham. Now," he added, as his commands were reluctantly obeyed, "help me on with them.
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