He looked from the sword to the dagger with which he had brought her down here, and grimaced. Let her have her own way in all things, for she will always be just. He waited. She had been in the drawing-room for a few minutes before the gong had sounded, and had chattered gaily to every one. 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.
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