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. "Why not?" "I'll tell you," cried a deep voice from the back of the bed. Do you know, Lady Ferringhall, I am proud that your sister permits me to call myself her friend. “My name is certainly Pellissier,” she said, “but I am very sorry—I do not recognize you in the least.
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