"And now, Mrs. While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark. She had been so young then. Taking the direction pointed out, he rode off. “Do you want to ruin me? I shall walk back. 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. The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash.
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