’ ‘I’m coming to that. It was ten feet long, a relic. 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. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. She wondered abjectly whether he intended to rape her before she was dead. Lucy knocked again. ” “Very well.
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