’ ‘And who, may I ask, is Dorothée?’ asked Gerald. I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother. He has helped me out of scrapes though, no end of times. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. She had changed into dungarees herself and kept her hair as it was. Stunning and continuous, the din seemed almost to take away the power of hearing.
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