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So strangely clouded were these refinements by the prison manners

and gloom, so spectral did they become in the inappropriate

squalor and misery through which they were seen, that Charles

Darnay seemed to stand in a company of the dead. Ghosts all! The

ghost of beauty, the ghost of stateliness, the ghost of elegance,

the ghost of pride, the ghost of frivolity, the ghost of wit, the

ghost of youth, the ghost of age, all waiting their dismissal

from the desolate shore, all turning on him eyes that were

changed by the death they had died in coming there.