Gerald’s breath caught. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. Always as black and bitter as gall. Then her eyes flashed. Already Cosette was her chosen friend. "When a man reaches the lowest scale through drink, we call him a beachcomber. Up to this moment, hopes had been entertained of a respite, strong representations in his favour having been made in the highest quarter; but now that his fate seemed sealed, the curiosity of the sight-seeing public to behold him was redoubled.
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