CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. Had he but known it, his outburst had done him no harm in the major’s eyes. Jackson’s. It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn. "As circumstances shall dictate, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan.
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