This last operation was so fatiguing, that for a short time he was obliged to pause to recover the use of his fingers. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. “Sooner or later, John, it will come to that. He saw that she was tense.
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