” “The real, identical other,” said Capes, and took and bit the tip of her little finger. ’ He glanced at the portrait behind her. This charming episode was repeated three times. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. 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. ’ Looking round, she found the little coterie of soldiers crowded into the passage behind them.
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