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Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. \"God, it's too curly for a brush. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. Then, presto! What a dreary lot they are when the revellers lay aside the motley! Ruth had come from a far South Sea isle. This done, he followed the course which Jack had just taken. You shall lie upon your back; your head shall be covered; and your feet shall be bare.
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