“Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like a cuckolded old maid. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. This getting up at dawn—real dawn—and working until seven was a distinct novelty. If you ask me, you’ll have to beat her regularly if you don’t want to live a dog’s life. But of course the money will not be refunded. "Humph!" exclaimed Jonathan, doubtfully. F.
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