Still, she knew instinctively that all of Sidney Carton's life had not been put upon the printed page. I bear the marks of some of them about me still," he continued, taking off his wig, and laying bare a bald skull, covered with cicatrices and plates of silver. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. Michelle was sounding alarm bells everywhere in Lucy’s brain, but Lucy felt the pull of a 188 greater inertia, the urge to stay put so strong that to deny it was to deny the existence of gravity. Spurlock halted in his tracks.
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