Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left the house without a smile upon her face. She wanted to live. 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. He’s waiting. Then suddenly, in front of all those windows, he folded her in his arms and pressed her to him, and kissed her unresisting face. He displayed none of the airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate. She remembered the doctor's warning that the real battle would begin when the patient recovered consciousness.
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