. ’ ‘The nuns?’ she said, gazing at him innocently. Still, she knew instinctively that all of Sidney Carton's life had not been put upon the printed page. "As long as you please, Sir," answered the matron, dropping a curtsey. His idea was to get behind this sustained listlessness. She acted as her mother had taught her to. He was always visualizing the Hand whenever he let his gaze rest upon the horizon. It seemed incredible that she and her aunt were, indeed, creatures of the same blood, only by a birth or so different beings, and part of that same broad interlacing stream of human life that has invented the fauns and nymphs, Astarte, Aphrodite, Freya, and all the twining beauty of the gods.
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