With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. The doctor frowned. " "My coat, please. ’ ‘But you don’t look anything like her,’ burst out Mrs Ibstock. I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. “You would be wise to loosen your purse-strings, Gianfrancesco. "I'll have to set you right on that, too. "Well, Lady Trafford," he said, fixing a severe look upon her. 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.
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