” “Don’t worry yourself. I want to fill it with fine and precious things. She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. Well, after a time there came a fever in my blood. 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. Tell me I haven’t heard.
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