6. The night was now profoundly dark. 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. \"Why weren't you there?\" She asked Mike. As the movie reached its predictable apex, she clutched his right knee in a careful imitation of fear. It doesn’t matter. She too at once developed an anxious interest in the street outside. “My parents left for Vail on a plane this morning. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. ’ She turned and swept away from him, pacing the length of the room to the window Gerald had unshuttered. He had kissed his wife on the mouth … and had been horrified! There was real madness somewhere along this road. I wonder what it was. After all, Hilary must be near returned by now. She's my mealticket.
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