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A Tale of Two Cities

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Mr. Lorry, who had gone out when the young lady and her father went out, now reappeared, and beckoned to Jerry: who, in the slackened interest, could easily get near him. Mr. Lorry, who had left the courtroom with Miss Manette and her father, now came back in and motioned to Jerry. Jerry could now get near him easily since the crowd had left.
“Jerry, if you wish to take something to eat, you can. But, keep in the way. You will be sure to hear when the jury come in. Don’t be a moment behind them, for I want you to take the verdict back to the bank. You are the quickest messenger I know, and will get to Temple Bar long before I can.” “Jerry, you can go get something to eat, but stay close by. I’m sure you will hear when the jury comes in. Get back here as soon as they do. I want you to take the verdict back to the bank. You’re the fastest messenger I know, and you’ll get back to Temple Bar much faster than I can.”
Jerry had just enough forehead to knuckle, and he knuckled it in acknowledgment of this communication and a shilling. Mr. Carton came up at the moment, and touched Mr. Lorry on the arm. Mr. Lorry gave him a shilling, and Jerry agreed to deliver the message. At that moment, Mr. Carton came up to Mr. Lorry and tapped him on the arm.
“How is the young lady?” “How is the young lady?”
“She is greatly distressed; but her father is comforting her, and she feels the better for being out of court.” “She’s very upset, but her father is comforting her. She feels better now that she is out of the courtroom.”
“I’ll tell the prisoner so. It won’t do for a respectable bank gentleman like you, to be seen speaking to him publicly, you know.” “I’ll tell the prisoner. It wouldn’t be proper if people saw a respectable banker like you speaking to him in public.”
Mr. Lorry reddened as if he were conscious of having debated the point in his mind, and Mr. Carton made his way to the outside of the bar. The way out of court lay in that direction, and Jerry followed him, all eyes, ears, and spikes. Mr. Lorry blushed as if he had thought of this himself. Mr. Carton went over to the bar where the prisoner was sitting. The exit was in the same direction, and Jerry, with his spiked hair, followed behind him, watching and listening intently.
“Mr. Darnay!” “Mr. Darnay!” said Mr. Carton.
The prisoner came forward directly. The prisoner immediately stepped forward.
“You will naturally be anxious to hear of the witness, Miss Manette. She will do very well. You have seen the worst of her agitation.” “I’m sure you are anxious to hear how the witness, Miss Manette, is doing. She is doing very well. She got through the worst of it.”
“I am deeply sorry to have been the cause of it. Could you tell her so for me, with my fervent acknowledgments?” “I am very sorry that I caused her distress. Could you tell her for me, with my sincerest apologies?”
“Yes, I could. I will, if you ask it.” “Yes, I will tell her if you want me to.”
Mr. Carton’s manner was so careless as to be almost insolent. He stood, half turned from the prisoner, lounging with his elbow against the bar. Mr. Carton’s attitude was so casual that it was almost rude. He stood there, partly facing away from the prisoner, leaning with his elbow against the bar.
“I do ask it. Accept my cordial thanks.” “I would like that. Thank you.”
“What,” said Carton, still only half turned towards him, “do you expect, Mr. Darnay?” “What verdict do you expect, Mr. Darnay?” Carton asked, still only partly facing him.
“The worst.” “Guilty.”
“It’s the wisest thing to expect, and the likeliest. But I think their withdrawing is in your favour.” “It’s smart of you to expect that, as it’s the most likely. But I think their long deliberation could work in your favor.”
Loitering on the way out of court not being allowed, Jerry heard no more: but left them—so like each other in feature, so unlike each other in manner—standing side by side, both reflected in the glass above them. Jerry didn’t hear any more of their conversation, since he wasn’t allowed to hang around. He left the two men, who looked so much like each other but were so different in their behavior, standing next to each other and reflected in the mirror above them.
An hour and a half limped heavily away in the thief-and-rascal crowded passages below, even though assisted off with mutton pies and ale. The hoarse messenger, uncomfortably seated on a form after taking that refection, had dropped into a doze, when a loud murmur and a rapid tide of people setting up the stairs that led to the court, carried him along with them. An hour and a half went by slowly. The scoundrels in the crowd passed the time eating and drinking. Jerry, seated uncomfortably on a bench after eating dinner, had dozed off, when the murmuring crowd swept him up and carried him with them into the courtroom.
“Jerry! Jerry!” Mr. Lorry was already calling at the door when he got there. “Jerry! Jerry!” Mr. Lorry was already calling for him when he arrived.
“Here, sir! It’s a fight to get back again. Here I am, sir!” “I’m here, sir! It’s a fight to get back through this crowd. Here I am, sir!”
Mr. Lorry handed him a paper through the throng. “Quick! Have you got it?” Mr. Lorry handed a piece of paper to him through the crowd. “Quick! Do you have it?”

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