Already Cosette was her chosen friend. And if he won’t—” But she did not give even unspoken words to the alternative at that time. "Hear! hear!" vociferated Quilt. The cart, meantime, had approached the fatal tree. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. "I'll run and bring him back. Before midnight, your nephew shall be safe beneath the hatches of the Zeeslang. She perceived that his countenance was only composed by a great effort, his features severely compressed.
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