Our men had him fast, held down in a chair. Sydney was watching her eagerly. " "Iss, missis," grinned the black. "Mine died while I was over here. " "But you can imagine it. "Spare me!" he groaned, looking upwards. 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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