Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. "You are all right?"—anxiously. 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. " "Heaven help her!" sighed Jack. At least one of them was caught and put away. “Hullo!” Courtlaw, haggard, his deep-set eyes more brilliant than ever, took Anna’s hand into his, and breathed a little close drawn sigh of content. Brendon dismissed the subject with a wave of the hand. . ’ Gerald tutted. The fates are never so kind to me. " "Impossible!" cried Jonathan.
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