Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. . She attacked his hair resolutely. " "Have you told him so?" she inquired, reproachfully. . Am I mistaken? Is your heart mine?" "It is—it is; and has ever been," replied Winifred, falling upon his neck. When I absorb a fact, my brain weighs the fact carefully and stores it away. Perhaps it had been pick-pocketed or jostled from her dress in a hunt. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. You shall have room to develop, you shall live as you will, where you will, only give me the right to protect you, to free you from all these petty material cares. This light did not remain stationary, but could be seen at one moment glimmering through the rents in the roof, and at another shining through the cracks in the wall, or the broken panes of the casement.
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