Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. He encouraged her to join him in his debauchery. Wood," said the lady bridling up, "my request may, perhaps, have some weight with you. ” “What do you mean—by too late?” he demanded. The future? He dared not speculate upon that. All the turnkeys were assembled. 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. "Oh lord! I hope not. " There was a brief, breathless pause. Mirages, over which he was constantly throwing bridges which were wasted efforts, since invariably they spanned solid ground. Restraining with an effort his intense curiosity, he talked of general subjects only, trying his best to entertain her. She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. “You killed them, didn’t you?” He said. " "Mr.
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