The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. “Are you looking for Mike? He’s working. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. Without an idea where he was going, Jack pursued his way through the fields; and, as he proceeded, the numbness of his limbs in some degree wore off, and his confidence returned. Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton. “You appear,” she said, without any sign of anger in her tone, and with unruffled composure, “to be a very impertinent person.
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