Cosette steps into the light of the hallway -- it dazzles her eyes, but only a little -- and turns to smile at him. Perhaps it's only the slight floating haziness of being tired, of being happy, of being dazzled by winter darkness and then warm light, but right now that seems the loveliest prospect imaginable, and utterly possible.

"Oh, Marius!" she cries softly. "That would be so wonderful."

And why shouldn't it be possible? Her father never seemed to have any difficulty in renting a new house, and they have plenty of money. For that matter, does her father still have the house in the rue de l'Homme Armé? She's not sure. It never occurred to her to ask.