She slipped it calmly into her pocket. 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. Neither of these wards had beds, and the unfortunate inmates were obliged to take their rest on the oaken floor. Stir a foot, and I strike. There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. She decided to go on, after a momentary halt. She had not made friends with any; so they still eyed her askance. ’ ‘He let them go?’ asked Miss Froxfield incredulously. She knew blood was rushing to his face and other places as well.
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