Here, then, but for the time and place, might be another Sidney Carton. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. " Spurlock pointed in the sloping fields outside the walls. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you. I do wish you could come and dine with us some evening. You think you will. I don’t think they do matter. Some day older people, perhaps, will trouble to understand younger people, and there won’t be these fierce disruptions; there won’t be barriers one must defy or perish. ” “I say,” she reflected, “you ARE rather the master, you know.
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