Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. "I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. She started forward. All the events of the previous day rushed to his recollection; and though he had been unintentionally the cause of his mother's death, he reproached himself as severely as if he had been her actual murderer. He bowed over her hand, venturing to drop a kiss on it’s leathery surface. I am quite clear about this. Michelle’s eyes widened.
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