He watched her constantly, trapped her in corners and slept with his arms locking her like a human cage. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. ” Ennison hesitated for a moment. Ain't he, Madam?'" "He is, indeed," replied the widow, fervently; "more—much more than that.
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