Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. “You will write to me, I am sure—and from the date of your letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old place as “Your devoted friend, “WALTER BRENDON. May I ask the nature of your interest in her?” He hesitated. ‘Alors, you make a game with me, I see that. “I wish. "The night before last, Mr. " "It is," answered Wood.
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