Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton. She could still feel his psychic presence all around her, and she knew he was thinking of her. Bodies were piled high in the streets, Sebastian went on rounds and would come back late at night, reporting horrors and robberies, death that came within hours, not days. She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing. It’s exactly how it went down with me and Josh Durbin. White said slowly, “it depends a good deal upon what rooms you have.
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