Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. "Constance is yet living. “You are talking like a boy. 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. But it was not so ordered. The summer arrived, speeding the Plague and with it the famine in the streets. Chapter XXIV A CASE FOR THE POLICE After that first horrible moment it was perhaps Anna who was the more selfpossessed. "Your audacity passes belief," cried the latter, as soon as his surprise would allow him utterance. For so far she had kept it uncashed.
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