" "Jack's mother?" exclaimed the young man. His grief was so audible, that it attracted the notice of some of the bystanders, and Thames was obliged to beg him to control it. ‘But it is not on the horse at all, Jacques. Died short, I suppose, and the girls had to shift for themselves. 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. Spurlock went, it would not be far enough. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park.
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