Sublime

and they sank beneath the unnatural devotion of their youthful energies to their dry old books?

conspicuous.

having bestowed her affections (or whatever it might be that, in the absence of anything better, represented them)

it would be all the same a hundred years hence;

how was it possible to catch up with leisured women, who had been reading steadily from childhood?

pertness;

“I recognize the power of a

the beautiful devotion of so young and weak a creature had shed a ray of its own on the inanimate things around, and made them beautiful as itself;

“Top of the page: the title. Title.” Mr. Dickens mused, head down, rubbing his chin whiskers. “Pip, what’s a rare fine title for a novel that happens half in London, half in Paris?” “A—” I ventured. “Yes?” “A Tale,” I went on. “Yes?!” “A Tale of . . . Two Cities?!” “Madame!” Grandma looked up as he spoke. “This boy is a genius!”