"My child! my child!" exclaimed Mrs. . Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton. Her dainty shoes were soiled with dust and there was a great tear in her skirt. You told him there wasn't anything in the pockets?" "Yes. . She was slender, and sometimes she seemed tall, and walked and carried herself lightly and joyfully as one who commonly and habitually feels well, and sometimes she stooped a little and was preoccupied. “What’s the objection?” “I suppose she ought to know?” said Gwen to her mother, trying to alter the key of the conversation. To have the present lengthen into years! But in a few hours she would be upon her way, far lonelier than she had ever been. She caught at the idea.
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