She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side. Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. 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. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. This discovery made, I hastened back to London to offer you my hand, but found you had married in the mean time a smock-faced, smooth-tongued carpenter named Sheppard. It made me wake up, and there I lay thinking of you, spending your nights up here all alone, and no one to look after you. "Mr. "Come here," said the petticoated tyrant.
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