The hansom drove off. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. ” “Remember that you are young still, and fond of admiration,” Anna said. 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. I’m very resourceful, you know. “I killed him. But your role would have been to go about saying, ‘I beg your pardon’ in a reproving tone to things you understood quite well in your heart and saw no harm in.
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