Still, she knew instinctively that all of Sidney Carton's life had not been put upon the printed page. “Did your foster dads ever try to molest you?” “Of course they did, John. I came in by the vestry, and we will go out that way again. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. The wine was sweetened with cinnamon and cloves and rare edible flowers, which her father had instructed her not to drink excessively of. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. “It was poison—why not?” she answered. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words.
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