One thing—he could be thankful for that—the peak of his misfortunes had been reached; the world might come to an end now and not matter in the least. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. . "You cannot understand me, Madam; and it is well you cannot. Stay where you are, Mr.
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