How is she?” “My sister is quite well, thank you,” she answered. She wanted to cry out upon herself for the uttermost fool in existence. “Your name and address in his pocket was no delusion,” he said sharply. But when it came to broaching them, it proved to be much more difficult than she had supposed. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. She wondered if the second part would overcome his objections? Several times the words had rushed to her tongue, to find her tongue paralysed. Some day she wanted to be loved as Marius loved Cosette; but there was another character which bit far more deeply into her mind. So she built a shrine. Slowly she released the hammer on the pistol, uncocking it, and Gerald became conscious that he had been holding his breath.
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