Jack had been touched in the morning, but he was now completely prostrated. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. It was not simply that all the rooms were rearranged and everybody dressed in unusual fashions, and all the routines of life abolished and put away: people’s tempers and emotions also seemed strangely disturbed and shifted about. . The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. 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. It was the bitterest moment of her life. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield.
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