“I think as I feel in a good humour it must be the latter. "For my part, I don't think you ever quite got over the accident you met with on the night of the Great Storm. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. Ran in the family. 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. My boys buy them with beads or bolts of calico of mine.
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