The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. Lucy grabbed his shirtsleeve, whispering on tiptoe. He forgot Annabel’s idle attempts at love-making, all the cul-de-sac gallantry of the moment. ’ ‘You have seen him? Exactement. 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. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out. Having only seen him in the gloom of a dungeon, and loaded with fetters, Kneebone had not noticed this alteration: but he was now greatly struck by it.
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