\" Michelle replied, and directed the subject back towards boys. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. ” “Do you think that it was wise of you, or kind to come?” she asked quietly. His grip twisted her wrist. "Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead. 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.
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