Already Cosette was her chosen friend. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. He'd have enough to do to protect himself, without attending to you. “He is a sad blunderer. “Look here,” he said, protruding his eyes; “why get anything to do at all just yet? Why, if you must be free, why not do the sensible thing? Make yourself worth a decent freedom. ’ ‘Are we to infer that he had a choice?’ enquired Gerald. She slept in a bedroom clad in linens and skins, walked down hallways bedecked in the most gay and colorful frescos.
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