She looked, Dorothée said, just as she always looks. Either ignorant of the accident, or heedless of it, the foremost horseman pursued his way without even turning his head. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. ‘Gone!’ he said. A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out. As he balanced the photograph, a humorous twinkle came into his eyes. " "But she would understand you; whereas she will never understand her father. ’ Disappointment flooded her.
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