The three young men exchanged expressive glances. A. In the discussion there was the oddest mixture of things that were personal and petty with an idealist devotion that was fine beyond dispute. She forbade him to escape to his workshop in the basement during those times, denying him his one and only hobby. “I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table. Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton.
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