Why must her old nurse discover her precisely at this moment? ‘What are you at now, may I ask?’ Martha glared at the footman. She snatched about in her mind. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. 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. " "Well, for my part," observed Mrs. “Close your eyes. " "Come, my disconsolate darlings," cried Austin, "it only wants five minutes to six.
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