She counted three on the way to the train and four more on the crowded car that would have gladly taken him to bed with not so much as a word. "I guessed what was coming. ” They passed a man who stared at them curiously. "I cannot sign it," returned Trenchard. Much to her annoyance, therefore, Winifred was left alone with the woollendraper, who following up a maxim of his own, "that nothing was gained by too much bashfulness," determined to profit by the opportunity. He was the junior of both his sisters, co-educated and much broken in to feminine society. He forces an engagement upon her. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. 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.
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