But it is my fault. Wood. Auntie has taken the nails out of my palms, but the scars will always be there. Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. 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.
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