At any rate, I can see that you’re not protecting him at all. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. The next moment, however, he was picked up, and set upon his feet by a person who, having witnessed the accident, flew across the road to his assistance. "Arrest!" vociferated Wood. " "You look pretty fit. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll.
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