"Read the first chapter of Job"; beyond that, nothing. It depends upon what he was before he began this racket. 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. If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat. “And somehow or other,” she added, after a long interval, “I must pay Mr. “I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind. Her features were meagre, and ghastly white, and had the fixed and horrible stamp of insanity. .
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