These fellows must be right,” he added thoughtfully, “and yet—there’s a mystery somewhere. By his side sat a remarkably stout dame, to whom he paid as much attention as it was in his iron nature to pay. She smiled and started for the stairs without reply. 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. Fear nothing. She felt privileged above other women at parties, where she was on display as all the duchesses and queens looked upon her with envy as he was so clearly entranced by her in every way. “Monsieur admires the poster?” As a rule Sir John treated such advances with cold silence. They were alike in one phase—loveless and lonely.
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