” “It’s an unrest—a longing—What’s that?” The waiter had intervened. The poor widow was thrown into an agony of distress on learning that a robbery had been committed, in which her son (for she could not doubt that Jack was one of the boys,) was implicated; nor was her anxiety alleviated by Mrs. Old thoughts, old feelings, old faces, and old scenes have returned to me, and I have fancied myself happy,—as happy as I am now. Still, she knew instinctively that all of Sidney Carton's life had not been put upon the printed page. I don’t care what else there is in the world. I can't bear it. “I’ll never be happy again! I hate you! But most of all, what you have made me! A flesh-eating demon cannibal, just like you! I should be dead, dead and lying at the bottom of the sea. The fire still burned brightly. “It’s a flabby, loose-willed world we have to face. Them young prigs is all alike. She was to fall back amongst the ruck, a young woman of talent, content perhaps to earn a scanty living by painting Christmas cards, or teaching at a kindergarten. Shall I bring off anything?" he added, looking eagerly round. That’s who you ought to go and see, miss. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps.
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