Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. She says she will have to, though she does not wish to. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes. “It is very good of you to come and see me, my dear sister,” Annabel remarked, throwing herself into a low chair, and clasping her hands over her head. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers.
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