” John peered at her as she went to him. ‘Moreover, no one will believe any more that Yolande is me when they see this. 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. " "Anything, my dear," replied Wood, "What is it?" "Bury us together in one grave in Willesden churchyard. She HAD cried, Ann Veronica knew. " "How had he offended you?" inquired the widow. .
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