Jack paused for a moment, and found that his own adventures formed the subject of the ballad. Lucy followed. She gathered stones to place upon the makeshift grave. The house had in fact been converted into a convent, but the fact could not be advertised, not even in the Catholic enclave that existed in this part of town. . Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton. Ann Veronica sat back in an attitude of inattention, her eyes on a distant game of cricket, her mind perplexed and busy. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it.
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