Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. "Nothing—nothing," she answered, bursting into tears. With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. It was in fact the first embrace of motherhood she had ever known. Mr. ‘Come on.
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