Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. ” “It is odd that this man at the hospital should call himself Meysey Hill,” she remarked. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. Bordered by fine timber, the road occasionally offered glimpses of a lovely valley, until a wider opening gave a full view of a delightful and varied prospect. Her hair was held back in a filigreed barrette. She thought of her costume in some detail and with considerable satisfaction, and particularly of a very jolly property dagger with large glass jewels in the handle, that reposed in a drawer in her room. He laughed reassuringly.
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