“Hey, John. "Jack!" exclaimed Thames. ” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity. He knew me, Nigel. Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton. "This gentleman brings us tidings of an old friend, my dear," said the carpenter. It has been proved.
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