"Can I help you, Jack?" asked Thames, taking up a plane. ‘And I’ll say it as often as I choose, you confounded impertinent wench! Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your grandfather, girl. 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. The ribald demons that infested the back of Ann Veronica’s mind urged various facetious interrogations upon her, as, for example, where the witness had acquired his prose style. And, fearing you might not come to me, I forced my way hither, even with certainty of discomposing your friends. I never had even a real doll," she added, as she snuggled the flea-bitten head to her heart. Then the foremost bowed and passed on.
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