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. ’ ‘Sport!’ grumbled her betrothed, but he accompanied them across the ballroom all the same. They don’t count, and I don’t care. Not for me. " "I am not unprotected," rejoined the poor woman; "there's some one at the window. An admirable alternative presented itself and she sighed, spreading her hands. ” “I began to be afraid you might not come at all. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. There was the world besides, looming darker and larger. Why wasn't the world full of love, when love made happiness? Why did people hide their natural kindliness as if it were something shameful? Why shouldn't people say what they thought and act as they were inclined? Why all this pother about what one's neighbour thought, when this pother was not energized by any good will? Why was truth avoided as the plague? Why did this young man have one name on the hotel register and another on his lips? Why was she bothering about him at all? Why should there be this inexplicable compassion, when the normal sensation should have been repellance? Sidney Carton. Each became frightfully aware of the other as a plastic energetic body, of the strong muscles of neck against cheek, of hands gripping shoulder-blade and waist. “H’m!” he said, regarding the wreckage with a calmer visage.
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