Just because she was sorry for that young fool! "Uh-huh," he repeated, rising and bowing as he passed Ruth's table. Someone, it appeared, was trying to profit from that fact. “I am going,” she said grimly, with three hairpins in her mouth. Pardon! I wish to say, for your granddaughter, we seek succour. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. Still, she knew instinctively that all of Sidney Carton's life had not been put upon the printed page. "Then, of course, you must know. She was to fall back amongst the ruck, a young woman of talent, content perhaps to earn a scanty living by painting Christmas cards, or teaching at a kindergarten. She had other boyfriends and hung out at Foster’s only bar most of the time.
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