’ He had abandoned the “sir”, Gerald noted, realising that the footman’s respect for him had dropped sharply. ‘My name’s NOT More, Mr. “We have been all this time—Only your queer code of honor—Honor! Once you begin with love you have to see it through. “I have been bearing this—for your sake. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. Will you marry me?” Anna looked at him in blank amazement. Things got hot and heavy in the car the next night, and he peeled off her skirt and top to reveal her underwear. Why wasn't the world full of love, when love made happiness? Why did people hide their natural kindliness as if it were something shameful? Why shouldn't people say what they thought and act as they were inclined? Why all this pother about what one's neighbour thought, when this pother was not energized by any good will? Why was truth avoided as the plague? Why did this young man have one name on the hotel register and another on his lips? Why was she bothering about him at all? Why should there be this inexplicable compassion, when the normal sensation should have been repellance? Sidney Carton.
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