“I had those beautiful roses from you on my first night, and a tiny little note but no address. . 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. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. ‘You will not believe any of my very clever lies.
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