The last observation, however, caught the attention of the carpenter's wife. But in a moment she believed she understood. "What's that to you?" demanded Jonathan, gruffly. God knows how you did it. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE.
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