CHAPTER EIGHTEENCash
May 9, 2016
“. . . I made out at first sight to be a fine lady’s dressing-table. Whether I should have made out this object so soon, if there had been no fine lady sitting at it, I cannot say. In an armchair, with an elbow resting on the table and her head leaning on that hand, sat the strangest lady I have ever seen, or shall ever see.”
As I hear her shift in her hospital bed, I look up from the book.
“Two cities . . .” she whispers in a strained voice and opens her eyes.
“Hi there.” Setting the book down on the chair, I walk over to her. The sun is setting and the soft light is coming in through the small window. It bounces off the light gray walls in the small room and creates a shadow, making her look almost like a mirage.
As I approach her, she studies me wi
