Cosette laughs, suddenly, a brief little tumble of merriment. It's that or feel terribly sorry for him, and she'd rather be merry than sad. "And I've never been to one at all. Oh, what a pair we are!"

She pulls away from him suddenly, to whirl and catch at his hands.

"Let's make our own. Let's have our own, husband. We have pleasant company here, it's Milliways, it's Christmas. We can do what we like. We're married, we're young, we have money. Why shouldn't we throw a party, a proper Christmas party, and enjoy ourselves?"