He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. She could have kissed Cathy. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. 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. And talking of every conceivable thing. And, yet, I don't know. "There's the exact expression I want. He then made off.
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