It’s all very handsome starting out on your own, but it’s too damned hard. When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. ‘Dare I suppose that to be of her making?’ Gerald flushed. But this was not a season in which to be needlessly scrupulous. "You are my prisoner. ” She glanced into his blue eyes wearily. You are welcome to proclaim yourself ‘Alcide’ if you will. 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. It was something that would create a mutual claim, a relationship.
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