Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other. She was looking about her, and her face was dark with anger. He had invited himself to dine with her merely to watch her table manners. And there's your liver. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. .
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