They were different worlds, hers and those of those other sorts of children, weren't they? Enjolras hadn't met his first poor person, his first ACTUAL poor person as opposed to a servant, who was poor but not near death either, until he'd come to Paris, and they'd been mostly a concept to him for a long time. He needed as she spoke.

"And I did not know many others. It wasn't until later. Poor or soldiers, though..." he looked grim, biting his lip a moment, hating that it had been a necessity. "That cannot have been...I wish it might be avoided."

And he did, too. It had simply become even more personal now.