Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. Actually, he had come all this distance simply to fulfil a certain clause in his contract with Fate, to be in Canton on this particular day. He felt her relaxation and let go of her wrists. Alcohol— would you believe it?—steadies his nerves and keens his brain: which is against the laws of gravitation, you might say. “Ass!” he went on, still warming. “Not much,” he answered, “and yet about all there is to be known, I fancy.
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