"Oh! no—no—no," cried Winifred, "I cannot believe it. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. It is always on his person. You see to what it has brought you. We shall take an eternal farewell of each other. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. You break into a gentleman’s residence —’ ‘I did not break in. It remains a bizarre idea to me that Lucy Alberti could ever become so detailed or so real, but I’m certainly glad to have made her acquaintance. ” Sir John turned towards the door.
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