“Father,” she cried, “I have to live!” He misunderstood her. He was an imaginative young man. ‘I must, for that the pig has already gone to monsieur le baron. I am yours for the making over. ‘Of course not,’ snapped his friend. But a doll that rolled its eyes and had flaxen hair! Except for the manual labour—there had been natives to fetch and carry—she and Cosette were sisters in loneliness. ‘What the devil for? I’ll have one of the men ride the creature up tomorrow. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her.
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