Making her couch upon a heap of hay, she sank at once into a deep and refreshing slumber. "Harkye, Sir," rejoined Darrell; "one word before I move. . Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. I did it in self-defence. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor. Through that she had to go. ’ ‘But what of justice?’ asked Lucilla, evidently dazed.
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