" "Och! if he's a friend o' yours, my dear joy, there's no more to be said; and right sorry am I, I struck him. . . “The fact is—I don’t know why—this takes me by surprise. I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. You are brought here that their designs may be carried into effect with greater security. “It is in your hands from now on, Shar. But take a drop of wine," urged he, filling a drinking-horn and presenting it to her; "it's choice canary, and'll do you good. Not so Gosse. She feared he might take her tears as a sign of weakness. It was as much as I could do to prevent him flying out of the house there and then and coming after you. Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. 1.
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