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Yazar: Charles Dickens

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"She might think a thousand things," Carton said, "and any of
them would only add to her trouble. Don't speak of me to her. As
I said to you when I first came, I had better not see her. I can
put my hand out, to do any little helpful work for her that my
hand can find to do, without that. You are going to her, I hope?
She must be very desolate to-night."
"I am going now, directly."
"I am glad of that. She has such a strong attachment to you and
reliance on you. How does she look?"
"Anxious and unhappy, but very beautiful."
"Ah!"

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