She exited solemnly, retrieving and carrying Michelle’s unconscious figure into the forest like a reluctant bridegroom. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. 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 ought never to have thought of it. Traps, set with peculiar cunning; she had encountered them everywhere.
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