Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. Blueskin and the Minters were dragging Wood to the pump. " "Devil take the key!" ejaculated Wood. "But, I should think, after the specimen you've just given of your amiable disposition, no person would be likely to saddle himself with such an incumbrance. Scissors with which to cut her hair, just in case. ‘I think that was what began his downfall. “You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest. The sun never shone upon a lovelier couple than now approached the altar.
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