Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. Then her eyes flashed. " "No. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. . ‘It is the life I know. They were suddenly thrown aside, and a man stepped out from his hiding-place. You must let me do whatever I can for you. ‘That’s a loud one. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound.
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