“You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. On the morrow Spurlock (who was unaware that he had offered a prayer) let down the bars to his reserve. They are born idiots, incurably insane. You see, aunt, it’s the only possible way for me to get a good degree in my subjects, and father won’t hear of it. A little darling? Lord in heaven, he had taken leave of his senses. It is so that I may marry an Englishman. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. ‘Unheard of, ain’t it? To tell the truth, I half expected him to leave everything to one of his doxies. Or I should have made love to you long ago.
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