‘She wouldn’t tell me. He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp. Well, my dear, it is time you stopped wallowing in your sorrows like a common wretch. Still, she knew instinctively that all of Sidney Carton's life had not been put upon the printed page. Voilà tout. The stoppage had materially lessened the distance between him and his pursuers, who now amounted to more than a hundred persons, many of whom carried lanterns and links. "It's all up, master," groaned Ben, "nothin' short of a merracle can save us.
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