"If I were so, I should not be here," returned Trenchard. "The gentleman is a stranger to me, Poll," replied the woollen-draper, with increased embarrassment. The psychic vibration of him thickened the air of the room as if he were already inside. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. He loved the sea, and could give a good account of himself in any weather. Sheppard was no sooner alone than she fell upon her knees by the side of the couch, and poured forth her heart in prayer. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her.
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