"Choose, Jack. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. The period of repression was over. He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. ” Her words were slurred with sleep. ‘Her own,’ Gerald replied.
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