Already Cosette was her chosen friend. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. " With this, he attacked her vigorously in his turn. Following this direction, he opened a gate, and struck into one of the most beautiful green lanes imaginable; which, after various windings, conducted him into a more frequented road, and eventually brought him to the place he sought. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. The Morning Post was hungry for governesses and nursery governesses, but held out no other hopes; the Daily Telegraph that morning seemed eager only for skirt hands.
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