I always told you some accident would happen. ’ Sheer exasperation made Gerald release her as he broke into reluctant laughter. He took a handful of the gravelly mud, with which the platform was covered, and threw the small pebbles, one by one, towards the gleam. She had never felt so acutely the desire for free initiative, for a life unhampered by others. “Perhaps that is only sleeping,” he said. There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames. Here, then, but for the time and place, might be another Sidney Carton.
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