Since she was only seventeen when she had them, she didn’t deal with it very well. All the sombre visions she had been pressing back, fighting out of her thoughts, swarmed over the barrier and crushed her. Still, she knew instinctively that all of Sidney Carton's life had not been put upon the printed page. He urged his conductors to a quicker pace to get out of sight of the distressing spectacle, and even felt relieved when he was shut out from it and the execrations of the mob by the walls of the little prison. Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray. He found himself thinking up all the psychology which he had ever read. “I have come from a very unfashionable quarter,” she said, “and I do not think that I have been inside a milliner’s shop for a year. The race began once more; but this time Ruth knew that there would be no escape. Spurlock had sensed what had gone completely over McClintock's head—that this was the playing of a soul in damnation. Hastening in the direction of the sound, he discovered Thames Darrell, stretched upon the ground.
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