And she seemed always to keep one eye on Ann Veronica’s dress. "That I can't say. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. Night and day have been alike to me. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. " "Here is the sum you bargained for," rejoined Trenchard, flinging a pocket-book on the table; "count it. “To be an actress,” he said, “you require a special and peculiar temperament. John, I have something to say to you.
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