Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. CHAPTER VI Sidney Carton, thought Ruth, in pursuit of a sing-song girl! The idea was so incongruous that a cold little smile parted her lips. And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. When I was younger, I was very sick with a deadly flu. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. Her expression was a little changed, less innocent, more discerning. ‘Oh, the Frenchie.
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