8. ’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. I’ve got imagination. Already Cosette was her chosen friend. "Here!" shrieked Lady Trafford.
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