"You poor child!" Prudence took Ruth's hands in her own. " "Oh, dear! how I should like to see him. He was the Napoleon of knavery, and established an uncontrolled empire over all the practitioners of crime. The major will not call. If I offered you half of my possessions, you'd doubtless wallop me on the jaw. She wanted to turn him. 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.
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