But, suppose I've no place to lock 'em up in, how then?" Quilt looked a little perplexed. 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. Even her memories of he who had frequented her life for the longest period of years were worn and fading.
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