They will say that it was murder. His spirits revived, and encouraging himself with the idea that the present impediment, though the greatest, was the last, he set himself seriously to consider how it might best be overcome. She—She can snub him. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. Her finger-nails dug into her flesh.
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