"I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused. He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. ‘Martha was my wet-nurse? But she is unmarried. You have neither reason nor logic. 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 wonder,” he said, “is there anything we could do to help you to get rid of him?” “Can you think of anything?” Anna answered. " "It is too late," returned Jack, sullenly; "I can't be honest if I would. " "I can't endure the odious baggage. ’ Trodger frowned, and chewed his lip. Disgusted him! “For men policemen never blush; A man in all things scores so much. ’ At that, a flush drenched her cheeks and she snatched her hand away.
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