"There is something in The Tale of Two Cities that is wonderful," she said. “Don’t we all rather humbug about the coarseness? All we women, I mean,” said she. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. "Why it is astonishing, certainly," remarked Kneebone, "to find any woman constant—especially to a girlish attachment; but such is the case. This done, she waited at the side of the bed; but he gave no sign that he was conscious of her nearness. She dropped beside the chair, sat cross-legged, and laughed at the futile jade-coloured wall. “You are very good,” she said. “Dear friend,” she said, “do not magnify me into a physiological problem.
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