Mauled about!” She fell to rubbing her insulted lips savagely with the back of her hand. 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 never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour. Could you just let me in? I have a surprise for him. “What were you doing outside Miss Pellissier’s flat to-night? You were looking at her windows. You are restless, aggressive, critical with all the crude unthinking criticism of youth. She expanded that.
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