It was a spring-tide at half ebb; and the current, which was running fast and furiously, bore him instantly away. You must come and tell me all about it, although I am not sure whether we shall forgive you for not having written to any of us. “I wonder,” said Ramage, “that more girls don’t think as you do and want to strike out in the world. 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. You denied it at the time—but unfortunately I have proof. I am glad you found me. Bodies! Bodies! Horrible things! We are souls.
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