“Have you dropped from the skies?” Sydney asked wonderingly. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. ’ ‘Yes, do. 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. " "Man, she's your wife!" "And I am a thief. Life waits for us.
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