‘Rather thought I’d have to disarm you when you heard of it. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. She fought him with tooth and nail. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. “Some of them seem to be having an awfully good time too.
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