“What?” He replied. "He's not to blame," said Jack, rising. Nor must it be imagined, that while he thus exercised his teeth, he neglected the flagon. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. I have always had a secret crush on him, to be honest with you. 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. . CHAPTER XII.
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