Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. If he wants you, let him get you. No man knew whence she had come nor why. She had tried him as a Crusader, in which guise he seemed plausible but heavy—“There IS something heavy about him; I wonder if it’s his mustache?”—and as a Hussar, which made him preposterous, and as a Black Brunswicker, which was better, and as an Arab sheik. The place was crowded, and the people about her were almost equally made up of very goodlooking and enthusiastic young people and a great variety of Goopes-like types. Besides, the sun had gone in and it looked like rain. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. “It’s a nice holiday.
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This video was uploaded to afrikaexpress.info on 16-05-2024 10:44:33
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