"Bolt the wicket!" shouted Ireton, who, with the others, had been not a little entertained by the gallant turnkey's discomfiture. ’ Hilary’s brows shot up. He was a business man, pure and simple, his eyes were fastened always upon the practical side of life. Her dainty shoes were soiled with dust and there was a great tear in her skirt. "Is it a bargain?" "Take half of my estate—take all—my life, if you will—I am weary of it!" cried Trenchard passionately. 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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