Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. ’ She halted, her pistol still held firm and straight, both hands gripping it, her expressive features at once determined and uncertain. Wood's ear, whispered, "secret agents from France—you understand—friends to the cause—hem!" "I see,—persons of rank!" Mr. We'll get together this afternoon; and you can pretend that I am your father. Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton. ” Mr.
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