Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. 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. He eyed the young couple with the tragic history behind them, and could only suppose that familiarity had dulled their senses. " With this, he mounted his steed and rode off. “I expected you this morning,” he said. Miss Stanley, it was manifest, had given him Ann Veronica’s address.
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