” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. “It is hard to express one’s self, but I do want to be honest with you. Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't. You see, the trouble is that the matter is in dispute. Oh, to face facts! Gods! what a world it might be if people faced facts! Understanding! Understanding! There is no other salvation. “My friend,” she said, “no! Let me tell you this. 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. ’ He quirked an eyebrow.
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