CHAPTER VI Sidney Carton, thought Ruth, in pursuit of a sing-song girl! The idea was so incongruous that a cold little smile parted her lips. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. Unless he has killed someone. ” “What ball?” The question was rhetorical. ‘Come inside at once, child. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety.
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