’ ‘Hadn’t the wit, you mean. “You must tell me the truth, and I will see that no harm comes to you. Charley Pevenill was our host. Daily contact with actual human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative. Already Cosette was her chosen friend. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth's eyes. A couple of gilt straight-backed chairs only. “I wonder if you will?” “Let me say one thing,” he said.
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