Date: 2017-01-16 06:26 am (UTC)
lark_in_flight: Cosette in a large bonnet glancing over her shoulder (curious glance)
"I think I'll like ours better."

...Oh dear, she is overtired, or over-giddy, or something. It's true, but there's no call to be so rude about Marius's grandfather, who's always tried to be so kind to her. She straightens up a little. "That is -- I'm sure Grandfather Gillenormand's parties are nice too, in their way."

Um.

Oh, she already said it, and so did he, and it's night and nobody's around. It's almost as if they're in their own garden -- or back in the garden of the house at the rue de l'Homme Armé, where they spent so many hours in silent loving reveries or whispering together, in the first blossoming of love.

"But this was ours. That's all. Our very own, yours and mine, with good company."

Not all of it exactly proper by Grandfather Gillenormand's lights, either.
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