"You base ingrate," she added, in a whisper, as she flounced past Mr. ’ ‘But, Marthe, you do not imagine that I would have taken the veil like you, even if you have not told me. "I'd lay down my life for yours. ’ ‘Yes, that’s what I’m talking about,’ Gerald said. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor. "There is something in The Tale of Two Cities that is wonderful," she said. It is Thérèse. Oh, John.
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