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A Tale of Two Cities

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By good fortune she had a veil on her bonnet, or she could hardly have gone along the streets without being stopped. By good fortune, too, she was naturally so peculiar in appearance as not to show disfigurement like any other woman. She needed both advantages, for the marks of gripping fingers were deep in her face, and her hair was torn, and her dress (hastily composed with unsteady hands) was clutched and dragged a hundred ways. Luckily she had a veil on her bonnet. Otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to go through the streets without being stopped. Luckily, too, she always looked so strange that the dishevelment on her wasn’t as obvious as it would have been on any other woman. She needed both of these advantages, for there were deep marks on her face from Madame Defarge’s gripping fingers. Her hair was torn, and her dress, which she had quickly adjusted with her trembling hands, had been pulled and tugged a hundred different ways.
In crossing the bridge, she dropped the door key in the river. Arriving at the cathedral some few minutes before her escort, and waiting there, she thought, what if the key were already taken in a net, what if it were identified, what if the door were opened and the remains discovered, what if she were stopped at the gate, sent to prison, and charged with murder! In the midst of these fluttering thoughts, the escort appeared, took her in, and took her away. She dropped the key to the front door in the river as she crossed the bridge and arrived at the cathedral a few minutes before Jerry. While she was waiting, she thought, “What if the key had already been caught in a net and identified? What if they opened the door and discovered Madame Defarge’s body? What if I am stopped at the gate, sent to prison, and charged with murder?” While she was thinking these thoughts, Jerry appeared. He took her into the carriage and took her away.
“Is there any noise in the streets?” she asked him. “Is there any noise in the streets?” she asked him.
“The usual noises,” Mr. Cruncher replied; and looked surprised by the question and by her aspect. “The usual noises,” answered Mr. Cruncher. He was surprised by the question and surprised by the way she looked.
“I don’t hear you,” said Miss Pross. “What do you say?” “I didn’t hear you,” said Miss Pross. “What did you say?”
It was in vain for Mr. Cruncher to repeat what he said; Miss Pross could not hear him. “So I’ll nod my head,” thought Mr. Cruncher, amazed, “at all events she’ll see that.” And she did. It was pointless for Mr. Cruncher to repeat what he had said. Miss Pross couldn’t hear him. “I’ll nod my head,” thought Mr. Cruncher, amazed. “She’ll see that no matter what.” And she did.
“Is there any noise in the streets now?” asked Miss Pross again, presently. “Is there any noise in the streets now?” asked Miss Pross again.
Again Mr. Cruncher nodded his head. Mr. Cruncher nodded his head again.
“I don’t hear it.” “I don’t hear it.”
“Gone deaf in an hour?” said Mr. Cruncher, ruminating, with his mind much disturbed; “wot’s come to her?” “Has she gone deaf in the last hour?” Mr. Cruncher asked himself, thinking it over, disturbed. “What’s happened to her?”
“I feel,” said Miss Pross, “as if there had been a flash and a crash, and that crash was the last thing I should ever hear in this life.” “I feel as if there was a flash and a crash, and that crash was the last thing I’ll ever hear in my life,” said Miss Pross.
“Blest if she ain’t in a queer condition!” said Mr. Cruncher, more and more disturbed. “Wot can she have been a takin’, to keep her courage up? Hark! There’s the roll of them dreadful carts! You can hear that, miss?” “She’s is a strange state,” said Mr. Cruncher, becoming more and more disturbed. “Has she been taking something to keep her courage up? Listen! There’s the roll of those dreadful carts! You can hear that, can’t you, miss?”
“I can hear,” said Miss Pross, seeing that he spoke to her, “nothing. O, my good man, there was first a great crash, and then a great stillness, and that stillness seems to be fixed and unchangeable, never to be broken any more as long as my life lasts.” “I can’t hear anything,” said Miss Pross, seeing that he was speaking to her. “Oh, my good man. First there was a loud crash and then silence. That silence seems to be permanent and constant. It will never be broken as long as I live.”
“If she don’t hear the roll of those dreadful carts, now very nigh their journey’s end,” said Mr. Cruncher, glancing over his shoulder, “it’s my opinion that indeed she never will hear anything else in this world.” “If she can’t hear the rolling of those dreadful carts, which are now very close to their journey’s end,” said Mr. Cruncher, looking over his shoulder, “I think that she will never hear anything else in this world.”
And indeed she never did. And indeed she never did.

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