She kissed him on the bridge of his nose. He moved slightly, and she went on, with a slight catching of her breath: “It’s a bother and disturbance, but you see—” She had to go through with it now, because she could think of nothing but her preconceived words. I am tired, and I want to be alone. " "What else did you do when alone?" "I read the encyclopaedia. " During this touching interview, a change had come over Sir Rowland, and he half repented of what he had done. It was not the type of household where one could come and go at all hours, for this she was glad. After all there are other things. The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world. ’ ‘Ah, non?’ Her voice was neutral. A male voice, vibrant with terror, yelled out hoarsely. 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.
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