Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. “My dear Miss Pellissier,” he said impressively, “this is an unexpected pleasure. Still, she knew instinctively that all of Sidney Carton's life had not been put upon the printed page. “Why will you not be sensible? Go back to your old life and your old friends, and forget all about Paris and this absurd delusion of yours. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. ” “I wonder how he treated Gwen. And it has been well for you that he imagines the child was drowned. She found she could do her microscope work all the better for being in love. “I wonder if they will seem altered,” she remarked for the third time.
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