Never before had he seen a man like Enschede nor heard a voice like Ruth's. 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. . “Do not look so uncomfortable, both of you,” she begged. As he hesitated, unable to make up his mind what to do for the best, a heavy rumbling on the cobbles penetrated his absorption.
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