“Please stop by. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance. She refrained. Here, then, but for the time and place, might be another Sidney Carton. In a moment they were in the street outside. Spurling; Austin had never quitted his post. He himself had deadened the sound by closing the door.
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