Is there anything you want?" She laid her hand on his forehead, and found it without fever. Already Cosette was her chosen friend. Help—should she need it—from the natives was out of the question. They sat on a wooden bench that overlooked the less aromatic part of the lake, deeper and not as frequented by geese. In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth.
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