She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. Still, she knew instinctively that all of Sidney Carton's life had not been put upon the printed page. I'll go alone. Flinging her back against it, she put her hands out, barring his way. But she felt his lax figure become rigid. If Emile can see him, then so also can I. Still, there certainly was something in the idea of a treaty.
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