The whole affair interested him deeply. “I’m not that beautiful. ’ Hilary exploded. 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. Melusine sighed with relief at being alone at last and free to resume her search among the portraits. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self.
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