‘Why?’ Melusine eyed him dubiously. She was chaffing him about being taken for Meysey Hill, and suggested that he should be presented to me as the millionaire. “Come right in,” he hissed under his breath, with the true conspirator’s note, closed the door very softly and pointed, “Through there!” By the meagre light of a gas lamp she perceived a cobbled yard with four large furniture vans standing with horses and lamps alight. His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain. 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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