" "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand. “You must not. And by monsieur le baron, of a disposition entirely unforgiving, I do not desire to be recognised in the least. Ruth could tell the doctor; she could bare many of her innermost thoughts to that kindly man; but there was an inexplicable reserve before this young man whom she still endued with the melancholy charm of Sydney Carton. His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain.
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