Still, she knew instinctively that all of Sidney Carton's life had not been put upon the printed page. ” His fingers touched hers for a moment under the ledge of the box. I must say what I have to say!” “But not now—not here. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. I did what I could to comfort her but she died in terrible pain.
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