Many a black veil hid a high-born dame, and the religious habit was no protection. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. “Just seems like a nice place to get away to, especially since it seems to attract pretty girls. Capes. ’ For the moment I thought it was a telegram from Gwen. I don’t want to Bowdlerize Shakespeare. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. ‘Come, mademoiselle, it is of no use to conceal anything from me, you know. But you are Annabel.
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