” She could have handled ten times the weight, and hoisted him on her back and carried him too. Her knees shook, her breath came fast, she almost felt the lurid effect of those tiny patches of rouge upon her pallor-stricken cheeks. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. "You'll find her quiet enough to-day, Sir," observed the woman, as they walked along; "but she has been very outrageous latterly. In lieu of it, he still adhered to the sleek black crop, which, throughout life, formed a distinguishing feature in his appearance. I am almost old enough to be your father. What's-your-name?" "Shotbolt, Sir," replied the jailer.
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