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“But access to him,” said Mr. Lorry, “if it should go ill before the Tribunal,
will not save him.”
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“But if things go badly in front of the tribunal, going to visit him won’t
save him,” said Mr. Lorry.
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“I never said it would.”
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“I never said that it would.”
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Mr. Lorry’s eyes gradually sought the fire; his sympathy with his darling, and
the heavy disappointment of his second arrest, gradually weakened them; he was
an old man now, overborne with anxiety of late, and his tears fell.
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Mr. Lorry eventually looked back at the fire. The sympathy he had for Lucie
and his disappointment over Darnay’s second arrest gradually weakened him. He
was an old man now. Lately he had been overwhelmed by anxiety, and he started to
cry.
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“You are a good man and a true friend,” said Carton, in an altered voice.
“Forgive me if I notice that you are affected. I could not see my father weep,
and sit by, careless. And I could not respect your sorrow more, if you were my
father. You are free from that misfortune, however.”
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“You are a good man and a true friend,” said Carton. His voice sounded
different. “Forgive me if I notice that you are moved by this. If you were my
father, I couldn’t watch you weep and sit by without caring. And I could not
respect your sorrow more if you were my own father. Fortunately for you, you are
not my father.”
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Though he said the last words, with a slip into his usual manner, there was a
true feeling and respect both in his tone and in his touch, that Mr. Lorry, who
had never seen the better side of him, was wholly unprepared for. He gave him
his hand, and Carton gently pressed it.
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Though he said the last words with a slip into his usual casual manner, there
was sincerity in his tone and in his touch that Mr. Lorry didn’t expect. He had
never seen Carton’s gentle side. Mr. Lorry gave Carton his hand, and Carton
gently squeezed it.
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“To return to poor Darnay,” said Carton. “Don’t tell Her of this interview, or
this arrangement. It would not enable Her to go to see him. She might think it
was contrived, in case of the worse, to convey to him the means of anticipating
the sentence.”
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“To return to the subject of poor Darnay,” said Carton. “Don’t tell Lucie
about this conversation or the arrangement we have made. She won’t be able to go
see him. She might think that, in the worst case, it was arranged to bring him a
way of killing himself before he was sent to the guillotine.”
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Mr. Lorry had not thought of that, and he looked quickly at Carton to see if
it were in his mind. It seemed to be; he returned the look, and evidently
understood it.
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Mr. Lorry hadn’t thought of that, and he looked quickly at Carton to see if
that’s what he was thinking. It seemed that it was, and Carton looked back at
him as if they understood each other.
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“She might think a thousand things,” Carton said, “and any of them would only
add to her trouble. Don’t speak of me to her. As I said to you when I first
came, I had better not see her. I can put my hand out, to do any little helpful
work for her that my hand can find to do, without that. You are going to her, I
hope? She must be very desolate to-night.”
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“She might think a thousand different things,” said Carton. “Any of them would
only make her worry more. Don’t mention me to her. As I told you when I first
arrived, it’s better that I don’t see her. I can reach out and do what little
for her that I can without her seeing me. You are going to visit her, I hope?
She must be very unhappy tonight.”
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“I am going now, directly.”
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“I am going there right now.”
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“I am glad of that. She has such a strong attachment to you and reliance on
you. How does she look?”
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“I’m glad. She’s attached to you and relies on you. How does she look?”
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“Anxious and unhappy, but very beautiful.”
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“Anxious and unhappy, but very beautiful.”
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“Ah!”
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“Ah!”
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It was a long, grieving sound, like a sigh—almost like a sob. It attracted Mr.
Lorry’s eyes to Carton’s face, which was turned to the fire. A light, or a shade
(the old gentleman could not have said which), passed from it as swiftly as a
change will sweep over a hill-side on a wild bright day, and he lifted his foot
to put back one of the little flaming logs, which was tumbling forward. He wore
the white riding-coat and top-boots, then in vogue, and the light of the fire
touching their light surfaces made him look very pale, with his long brown hair,
all untrimmed, hanging loose about him. His indifference to fire was
sufficiently remarkable to elicit a word of remonstrance from Mr. Lorry; his
boot was still upon the hot embers of the flaming log, when it had broken under
the weight of his foot.
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Carton made a long, grieving sound, like a sigh—almost like a sob. It made Mr.
Lorry look at Carton’s face, which was turned to the fire. A light, or a shadow
(Mr. Lorry couldn’t have said which), passed over his face quickly. He used his
foot to put back a small flaming log that had rolled forward in the fire. He
wore a white riding coat and boots, which were in style then, an their light
surfaces in the light of the fire made him look very pale. His long, uncut brown
hair hung loosely around him. He didn’t seem to notice the fire, and Mr. Lorry
warned him that his boot was still on the hot embers of the flaming log after
the log had broken under the weight of his foot.
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