Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. The infant’s body, now missing its pulverized head, was still twitching among the blood-soaked ruins of corpses. Presently McClintock came in. With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him.
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