’ She waved towards a handy table to one side which was piled high with so many volumes, it looked in imminent danger of crashing to the floor. “The young lady, I presume, told you that her name was Anna,” he remarked. ‘Don’t fob me off, boy. Already Cosette was her chosen friend. It penetrated the skin; benumbed the flesh; paralysed the faculties. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently.
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