When she awoke, her husband held her hand as 31 Sebastianus urged her to drink weak wine. She had changed into dungarees herself and kept her hair as it was. He held in his hands many threads. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. She felt herself getting into a corner. But I'm sure it's important. It mattered not whether she flunked the year as she would soon be gone.
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