She grew attached to a pair of twins, a boy named Fritz and a girl named Anna, belonging to an auburn-haired Viennese prostitute named Clotilde. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. 1 through 1. "I see nothing surprising in it," rejoined Jonathan. Presently he heard her voice. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative.
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