“I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. She is known everywhere within the radius of five hundred miles. It is queer how ideas pop into one's head. 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. She parted the curtains to find him standing there. For a stunned moment, Emile did not speak. Bought her a nose job for her sixteenth birthday along with a car, I forget what model, but it was a nice car, a Mercedes convertible. In and out of consciousness she sailed, hearing voices from memory that she could not distinguish from reality. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. I did not reckon upon—him. It was a bright and beautiful day: so bright, so beautiful, that even her sad heart was cheered by it. What could be more splendid than a beautiful girl facing a great, glorious tiger? Una and the Lion again, and all that! But this isn’t that sort of thing; this is just a great, ugly, endless wilderness of selfish, sweating, vulgar competition!” “That you want to keep me out of?” “Exactly!” said Mr.
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