\"No, not really. \" They talked until midnight most nights. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. ‘It does not matter, Jacques. "I can't tell you!" she replied, blushing deeply, and clinching her little hand as tightly as possible; "it's a secret!" "I'll soon find it out, then," he returned, playfully forcing the paper from her grasp. It’s Providence. ” So they went this time to the Rococo, in Germain Street, and up-stairs to a landing upon which stood a bald-headed waiter with whiskers like a French admiral and discretion beyond all limits in his manner. Wood's boat, impelled alike by oar and tide, shot past the mark at which it aimed; and before it could be again brought about, the struggle had terminated. On weighing the matter over, he grew so uneasy that he resolved to descend, and inform him of his misgivings. "You frighten the cull out of his senses. But I may yet live to thwart them. In all his life he had never realized a dream; but the thought had never before hurt him. And I have no more the pistol.
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