It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. ” He replied. Do you think that I am utterly selfish?” She raised her eyebrows. . I have been very foolish, but it is over. Foolish compliments were tossed about like confetti. Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton. Across that world was written in letters of light, “Endowment of Motherhood. No great lover of state or state costume at any time, he was generally, towards the close of an evening, completely in dishabille, and in this condition he now presented himself to his subjects.
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