There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. “Rummy lot we are!” said Roddy. "But, I say, that girl is a queer one. 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. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered.
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