He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. She could now see to read; so she stirred the manuscript about until she came upon the first page. It was wonderful. ‘But for my dowry, what else? One cannot expect that an Englishman will marry any jeune demoiselle without a dowry. Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner.
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