She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. “I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes. 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. "I was at Tyburn. ‘Typical. They were childless and servantless, and they had reduced simple living to the finest of fine arts.
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