The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position. Their momentary absence seemed to have worked wonders; for now the most perfect understanding appeared to subsist between them. I have been imaging—” “Mr. Out of an old family album: here was the very comparison that had eluded him. Already Cosette was her chosen friend.
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