Some day she wanted to be loved as Marius loved Cosette; but there was another character which bit far more deeply into her mind. . Slowly she released the hammer on the pistol, uncocking it, and Gerald became conscious that he had been holding his breath. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. It was a spring-tide at half ebb; and the current, which was running fast and furiously, bore him instantly away. ‘And so you sneak back,’ she threw at him, ‘like the jackal that you are. .
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