’ ‘Ah, that was an affair altogether different,’ she explained and fluttered her long lashes at him. “If it will keep you busy,” he said, with a faintly ironical smile. 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. I have been dreaming of your body and you night after night. I have an aunt who is coming to live with me, and I do not intend to receive any visitors at all. There must be persons tender and loving in this world.
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