And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. “But I have no troubles. Why wasn't the world full of love, when love made happiness? Why did people hide their natural kindliness as if it were something shameful? Why shouldn't people say what they thought and act as they were inclined? Why all this pother about what one's neighbour thought, when this pother was not energized by any good will? Why was truth avoided as the plague? Why did this young man have one name on the hotel register and another on his lips? Why was she bothering about him at all? Why should there be this inexplicable compassion, when the normal sensation should have been repellance? Sidney Carton. He'll be brought out at this door, and may probably make some resistance. That would be myself, or if she lived, Mary’s daughter.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 06:54:16