She looked at the white ankle socks on her feet and was reminded simultaneously of her pajama outfit and the suitcase that still lay underneath the bed. Jonathan, however, was nowhere to be seen. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions. “GOOD CATCH, ALBERT!” A husky girl had bayed as she witnessed the puck’s abrupt flight. 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 took her hands firmly in his and raised them to his lips. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. He was unusually absurd and ready, and all the time it seemed to Ann Veronica as a delightful possibility, as a thing not indeed to be entertained seriously, but to be half furtively felt, that he was being so agreeable because she had come back again.
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