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The doctor nodded. Hang the wench! Roding was right. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death. She ran down alleyways and between buildings, faster than an Olympian, until she could hear his voice no more. Already Cosette was her chosen friend. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet. If he succeeds there, I do not know how I can prove myself.
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