Rank ingratitude, I call it. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. But I had to know for sure. I have heard of you from my husband. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. The season was ripe for mating, she thought to herself bitterly. Some day she wanted to be loved as Marius loved Cosette; but there was another character which bit far more deeply into her mind. .
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