It seems only yesterday that she was running down the Avenue, all hair and legs. He seemed so clean anyway, his fair 215 skin, his light brown hair, there almost seemed to be no point. After all, life had still its pulsations. "You'll be as good as your word, my charmer," whispered the executioner. I don't ask you to supply my place—for that is, perhaps, impossible. ‘That’s not much comfort. Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton.
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