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She tucked her stick under her arm and re-read Manning’s letter. 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 left his office at 5:39 according to her watch. ’ ‘And now we know also who is the prétendant, Mademoiselle Charvill. All at once she realised that Kimble had halted, leaning heavily against the wall. "Well, Sir?" gasped Sir Rowland.
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