She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. He began to talk again in quick undertones that she could not clearly hear. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. Wood, softening her asperity. He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. Wood. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. I see all the Movements.
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