"No; it's only a fresh gale," Ben returned: "hark! now it comes. No one seeing you together could doubt that she is your granddaughter. I find you were excessively brave, mon pauvre. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. As he returned to the table, he put his finger to his nose; and, though he said nothing, he thought he had a much better chance of winning his wager. We’ll go. I don’t want to Bowdlerize Shakespeare.
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