Did she suppose him a possible pretender to her daughter’s hand? The girl—Dorothée, if memory served—was clearly marriageable, but he imagined most of these unhappy exiles were all but penniless. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. ” He stood before the door. ‘But with more courage in her little finger than in many another female’s entire body.
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