She was to be handed over with her dowry of three thousand Florins, plus her pet bird, six chickens, her mother’s fine linens, a small book of poetry. Imbecile. ” Cathy hugged her. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him. ” She was altogether hysterical now. But she did not know what he knew, that it would always be rolling up, enlivened by suggestion, no matter how trifling. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. I could not keep away any longer. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll.
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