’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen. "All right," replied Sheppard, with affected indifference. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton. But the stone was slippery; and the tide, which here began to feel the influence of the fall, was running with frightful velocity.
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