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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 had seen for herself right up in the bedroom window with her binoculars when Joanie was gone shopping one night, right with her own eyes. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. An ordinary type, of course—” Mrs. "Ruth!" She had gone to the door, aimlessly, without purpose. Sebastian was physically beautiful, she reflected. A shaft of searing heat plunged downward. . “Anna of course would not accept any money from us,” she continued.
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