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‘But we—mon mari and myself—we have the bonne chance. She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. Another picture slid across her vision. Suppose our proper place is a shrine. She was ushered into the back of the squad car. "I'm sorry," she said. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle. "Jack!" she cried, raising her head. She stopped abruptly, and looked in a flower-shop window. "They will kill me, if they find me, as they would have killed my husband and child. The doctor nodded to him curtly. . She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll.
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