“I suppose, daddy, you’ve no objection to my going on with my work at the Imperial College?” she asked. He never retires to rest till daybreak—if at all. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door.
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