There must be real Valjeans, else how could authors write about them? Supposing some day she met one of these astonishing creators, who could make one cry and laugh and forget, who could thrill one with love and anger and tenderness? Most of us have witnessed carnivals. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night. Long ago. "Do you want it back under the pillow?" "Hang it over a chair. Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. "My worst fears are realized. She was not a Christian woman.
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