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. The room was dark and dusty. "What can it matter to you whether he returns or not, child," rejoined Mrs. ” She disengaged herself from him and went out of the room with a grave, preoccupied expression. For the young, immortality must seem promising, even wonderful! The grass is always greener on the other side. The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. I swore to hang you two years ago, but I deferred my purpose.
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