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. These interests her world promptly, through the agency of schoolmistresses, older school-mates, her aunt, and a number of other responsible and authoritative people, assured her she must on no account think about. Lucy sighed. Half an hour passed, but Jack did not make his appearance. “Where are they?” She looked around. You are my wife now and you belong to me. ‘Oh, are there? You are not quite alone in these adventures of yours, I take it. At second hand it would be unendurable. Well, after a time there came a fever in my blood.
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