272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. ’ ‘Ha! You’re Catholic, too, damn his eyes,’ growled the general. No—you shall come with me to Waterloo. Still, she knew instinctively that all of Sidney Carton's life had not been put upon the printed page. “It is strange that we should have met Annabel,” she said. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth.
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