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A Tale of Two Cities

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“Try them again. The hours between this and to-morrow afternoon are few and short, but try.” “Try to use your influence again. There isn’t much time between now and tomorrow afternoon, but try.”
“I intend to try. I will not rest a moment.” “I intend to try. I won’t rest for a moment.”
“That’s well. I have known such energy as yours do great things before now—though never,” he added, with a smile and a sigh together, “such great things as this. But try! Of little worth as life is when we misuse it, it is worth that effort. It would cost nothing to lay down if it were not.” “Good. I have known energy like yours to do great things before now, though never—” he added smiling and sighing “—as great as this. But try! Our life is worth so little when we misuse it. It is worth at least this effort. Our lives would be worth nothing if it weren’t.”
“I will go,” said Doctor Manette, “to the Prosecutor and the President straight, and I will go to others whom it is better not to name. I will write too, and—But stay! There is a Celebration in the streets, and no one will be accessible until dark.” “I will go to the prosecutor and the president right away,” said Dr. Manette. “And I will go to the others whom I shouldn’t name. I will write too, and—but wait! There is a celebration in the streets. I won’t be able to reach anyone until it’s dark.”
“That’s true. Well! It is a forlorn hope at the best, and not much the forlorner for being delayed till dark. I should like to know how you speed; though, mind! I expect nothing! When are you likely to have seen these dread powers, Doctor Manette?” “That’s true. Well! It is a desperate hope at best. It’s not much more desperate if it’s delayed until dark. I’ll want to know how you do. But remember! I don't expect anything. When are you likely to meet with these powerful people, Dr. Manette?”
“Immediately after dark, I should hope. Within an hour or two from this.” “Immediately after dark, I hope. Within an hour or two from now.”
“It will be dark soon after four. Let us stretch the hour or two. If I go to Mr. Lorry’s at nine, shall I hear what you have done, either from our friend or from yourself?” “It will be dark soon after four o’clock. If I go to Mr. Lorry’s at nine, will I be able to hear how you have done, either from a friend or from yourself?”
“Yes.” “Yes.”
“May you prosper!” “Good luck!”
Mr. Lorry followed Sydney to the outer door, and, touching him on the shoulder as he was going away, caused him to turn. Mr. Lorry followed Sydney to the outer door. He touched him on the shoulder as he was going away, causing him to turn around.
“I have no hope,” said Mr. Lorry, in a low and sorrowful whisper. “I have no hope,” said Mr. Lorry, in a quiet, sorrowful whisper.
“Nor have I.” “Neither have I.”
“If any one of these men, or all of these men, were disposed to spare him—which is a large supposition; for what is his life, or any man’s to them!—I doubt if they durst spare him after the demonstration in the court.” “If any one of these men, or even all of these men, wanted to spare him—which is asking a lot, for what do they care about his life, or any man’s life?—I doubt that they would dare to do it after the way the crowd reacted in the courtroom today.”
“And so do I. I heard the fall of the axe in that sound.” “So do I. I heard the sound of an axe falling in their screams.”
Mr. Lorry leaned his arm upon the door-post, and bowed his face upon it. Mr. Lorry leaned his arm on the doorpost and buried his face in it.
“Don’t despond,” said Carton, very gently; “don’t grieve. I encouraged Doctor Manette in this idea, because I felt that it might one day be consolatory to her. Otherwise, she might think ‘his life was want only thrown away or wasted,’ and that might trouble her.” “Don’t worry,” said Carton very gently. “Don’t grieve. I encouraged Dr. Manette in this idea because I felt that it might one day make Lucie feel better. Otherwise, she might think to herself, 'his life was thrown away or wasted,' and that might upset her.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” returned Mr. Lorry, drying his eyes, “you are right. But he will perish; there is no real hope.” “Yes, yes, yes,” answered Mr. Lorry, wiping the tears from his eyes. “You’re right. But he will die. There is no real hope.”
“Yes. He will perish: there is no real hope,” echoed Carton. “Yes. He will die. There is no real hope,” repeated Carton.
And walked with a settled step, down-stairs. And with that, Carton walked confidently downstairs.

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