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. A little Cockney recovered it, and made ridiculous attempts to get to her and replace it. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. Gregory B. ‘You didn’t understand it any better than I. 133 “TRY ME!” He yelled, his voice booming into the cacophony beyond the walls. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. Then, in a whisper: "But there's no reason why the whole hotel should. " "No more!" cried Griffin, incredulously; "I should have thought you must have made double that sum at least. I don’t idealize you.
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