"Damnation!" exclaimed Wild with a snarl, that displayed his glistening fangs to the farthest extremity of his mouth, "I'm not to be trifled with thus. She was no longer there. 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. "Drink your peg; don't bother about me. Her fingers rested upon his. Besides, I'm afraid her simple honesty will spoil any invented yarn. "Remember the devil!" retorted Terence, who had recovered his natural audacity.
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