"So much the better," rejoined Sir Rowland. Yet he was in a state of hopeless bewilderment. 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. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. You cannot tell whether you know him or not until you have seen him. Manning would on no account do, though he was tall and dark and handsome and kind, and thirty-five and adequately prosperous, and all that a husband should be.
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