That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary. I’m turning into a big fat cow. 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. But we waste time. " "Heaven have compassion on you, Rowland!" murmured his sister, crossing her hands and looking upwards; "you have none on me.
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