Nothing could have been farther from Melusine’s mind. 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. She sensed his acute frustration as he unzipped her raincoat while trying to kiss her. "And, now I'll tell you what they do. Blueskin goes with me.
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