The child was now within reach; and, in another moment, he would have executed his deadly purpose, if an arm from behind had not felled him to the ground. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. But I waited in vain. ‘So it would appear. 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. Its importance had vanished with her abandonment of compromise. “Thank you, ma’am. ‘Not here. ’ ‘No, sister, I know that, but—’ ‘You needn’t tell me. “Rather darker than most of them.
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