He was braver than her husband, who paced and cowered in the corners of the once-sunny Palazzo. As he took his departure, he whispered to the Jew: "Take him dead or alive; but if we fail now, and you heard him aright in Seacoal Lane, we are sure of him at his mother's funeral on Sunday. Some day she wanted to be loved as Marius loved Cosette; but there was another character which bit far more deeply into her mind. They buried him in Willesden churchyard after the robbery. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals.
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