“Idiotic, isn’t it?” “Absolutely,” she agreed coldly. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. ’ ‘No, no, go and fetch the men to the house. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. Who could guarantee a safer existence outside Florence? That Sebastian seemed to have a weird immunity to the Pestilence was a trait that went unquestioned, unanswered.
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