The fellow Kimble, to whom Gerald was indebted, was gaping. CHAPTER II. \" Michelle was becoming upset, and her voice took on a tone of sarcasm. ‘Ain’t no call for you to go a-blaming of yourself. "The poor things!" The manager laughed. Her unnatural calm was giving way. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. They vanished through the doorway. She loved to walk through the gardens, graced with columns that loomed overhead. She felt like a dried-up old woman.
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