Oddly, he was seldom angry with her as Gianfrancesco would have been. Oriental rugs adorned the sea of shiny hardwood floors, kept polished with an eye for detail that bordered on Japanese. “No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing. “It’s the warming up of the year, the coming of the light mornings, the way in which everything begins to run about and begin new things. Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton.
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