“Well——” She stopped short. C. Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton. Now, however, as Gerald watched them, their heads were together and they were murmuring in French. Forthwith he presented his card. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. She crawled into her small bed, dizzy with the thoughts of him, of kissing him. “Thanks, so do you. Hear me, adorable girl! You know not the extent of my devotion.
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