” The brutality of his first astonishment was evaporating. "Yes, sir," said McClintock, as he sat down; "that's South Sea stuff, that yarn of yours. Then she put more coal on, piled it over the ashes, and stood once more upright. My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me. Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton.
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