He advanced a step towards her. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. 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. My foster mom works there as a second job.
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