Gerald smiled and crooked his elbow. "Hush!" said she, in a low, but agitated voice; "would you earn this purse?" "I've no objection," replied Blueskin, in a tone intended to be gentle, but which sounded like the murmuring whine of a playful bear. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. I’ve never met any one like you. It was a fetching gown that stretched tightly in a cream colored swath over her breasts and expanded to a full skirt with a petticoat. I’ve made up my 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. Still, it was rather terrible to suspect that one had fallen from grace, but nevertheless the thing was possible.
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