” He made a little noise in his throat as if something had cried out within him, and for a time they were both too full for speech. This time they would call it murder. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. As absurd as that you take this interest in my affairs. So, here he was, on the last lap of middle age, in China, having missed all the thrills in life except one—the war against Death. The arrival of la tante Prudence late next day had changed all this, it is true. Upon this island whither he was bound there would be no diversions, breathing spells; the battle would be constant.
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