’ I received strange looks from them. 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. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. She would not sleep for fear of losing a moment of that sense of his proximity. One from 1966, a yearbook photo reprinted in a newspaper. I was to blame to carry the matter so far. I could never have talked to you like this, forgetting everything that parts us, forgetting even your age, if I did not love you utterly. He knew my name, and also that I had been living in Paris, and a man doesn’t risk claiming a girl for his wife, as a rule, for nothing. . Well, my friend found us out, and would give no quarter. That paper must be signed, or I take my departure.
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