His glance came up again and met hers. He cocked an eyebrow. “Tell him to drive—anywhere,” she exclaimed. " "Thames!" "You seem to doubt my love," he continued,—"you seem to think that change of circumstances may produce some change in my affections. His foot tapped impatiently, and he took up the papers. Besides, the sun had gone in and it looked like rain. 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. "I guessed from your dress and manner, Sir, that you must have been long absent from your own country," said Kneebone; "and now I'm convinced of it, or you wouldn't have asked that question.
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