“Heavens!” exclaimed Ann Veronica, with extraordinary passion. A certain irritation crept into his manner as he did so. 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. ‘Eh bien, I will tell you. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty.
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