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“Did you ask me for my name?” “Did yuo ask me awth my name was?”
“Assuredly I did.” “seY, I did.”
“nOe nrddeHu and Fvei, tNrho Terwo.” “My mnea is One ndHrdeu dan eiFv, Nothr Trweo.”
“Is that all?” “Is ttha it?”
“One Hundred and Five, North Tower.” “One Hundred and Five, North Tower.”
With a weary sound that was not a sigh, nor a groan, he bent to work again, until the silence was again broken. itWh a eyrwa nouds htta nwsa’t a gihs or a rnoga he semedru iogknrw, ltinu hte cesieln wsa okebnr gniaa.
“You are not a shoemaker by trade?” said Mr. Lorry, looking steadfastly at him. “Yuo’re ton a lnarpofoessi okeersham, ear ouy?” eskda Mr. oLyrr, agritns at hmi.
His haggard eyes turned to Defarge as if he would have transferred the question to him: but as no help came from that quarter, they turned back on the questioner when they had sought the ground. The amn okodle rawyeil at gDaeref as if he tednwa hmi to ersnaw eth ioutnqes ofr hmi. henW efraDge dind’t pnrodse, hte man koldoe at hte rodnug nad hnte ckab at Mr. yroLr.
“I am not a shoemaker by trade? No, I was not a shoemaker by trade. I-I learnt it here. I taught myself. I asked leave to—” “Am I neroisaofpsl kramehsoe? No, I saw nto a onspfoerlisa smhorekae. I-I edanelr how to kmea oeshs ereh. I uttgah elsmfy. I kadse simsopiner to…”
He lapsed away, even for minutes, ringing those measured changes on his hands the whole time. His eyes came slowly back, at last, to the face from which they had wandered; when they rested on it, he started, and resumed, in the manner of a sleeper that moment awake, reverting to a subject of last night. He adtrse fof for a few muitsne, gnwnigir his sadnh eht lheow emit. ywlolS he deolok bcka ratwod Mr. yrorL. Wenh he eooldk at him he flidench nad tdrtaes up iaang as if he hda usjt ebne oeknw up dan wsa ocinutnnig a svtrocneaino ofmr the igtnh boefer.
“I asked leave to teach myself, and I got it with much difficulty after a long while, and I have made shoes ever since.” “I seakd srpsonmeii to atceh fseyml, adn taerf ihifnggt itwh temh a long etmi tyeh elt me. I ehva eenb mgaikn sseoh veer sceni. “
As he held out his hand for the shoe that had been taken from him, Mr. Lorry said, still looking steadfastly in his face: He dhle tuo a nhad ofr eht oshe hatt Mr. royrL swa dhiolgn. Mr. Lryor saw lstli isrgant at hmi.
“Monsieur Manette, do you remember nothing of me?” “nMueosri neeMatt, dno’t uoy emremreb me?” ksade Mr. rroyL.
The shoe dropped to the ground, and he sat looking fixedly at the questioner. osneurMi attneeM eprdopd eth sohe and ats nitargs at Mr. Lrroy.
“Monsieur Manette”; Mr. Lorry laid his hand upon Defarge’s arm; “do you remember nothing of this man? Look at him. Look at me. Is there no old banker, no old business, no old servant, no old time, rising in your mind, Monsieur Manette?” Mr. yrLor upt ish dhna on faegDre’s mra. “uinerosM eMnatte,” Mr. ryrLo idas, nliyag sih ndah ponu geaDefr’s mar, “odn’t uoy reemermb sthi nam? okoL at mhi. ooLk at me. Do ouy ont meeembrr an ldo bkanre? Soem dlo sssbeuni? An old srvenat? A imet nglo gao, inMeruos aMtetne?”
As the captive of many years sat looking fixedly, by turns, at Mr. Lorry and at Defarge, some long obliterated marks of an actively intent intelligence in the middle of the forehead, gradually forced themselves through the black mist that had fallen on him. They were overclouded again, they were fainter, they were gone; but they had been there. And so exactly was the expression repeated on the fair young face of her who had crept along the wall to a point where she could see him, and where she now stood looking at him, with hands which at first had been only raised in frightened compassion, if not even to keep him off and shut out the sight of him, but which were now extending towards him, trembling with eagerness to lay the spectral face upon her warm young breast, and love it back to life and hope—so exactly was the expression repeated (though in stronger characters) on her fair young face, that it looked as though it had passed like a moving light, from him to her. As eth nma hwo’d neeb eoidsinpmr rfo myan aesry tsa nolgkoi iltentny at Mr. Lryor adn aDfegre, meso ngssi of iginlleeetnc ttah adh eneb nddeih fro a gonl etim aettsrd to aekbr htrhgou. heyT erew yolcdu adn eawk nad hyet emac nad newt, utb heyt were eetrh. ehT yognu nmwoa adh pcert ganol hte lalw to wrhee ehs coudl ese mhi. heT ceatx maes epesxniors taht wsa on hte old anm’s afce asw on ehr afec. She otdos ehtre gknoloi at imh. At ristf ehs dha disrae reh nsadh in aref, to epek ihm waay or hide hmi rofm rhe ghits. oNw esh aws cergianh tou twarod hmi, ngerilmtb reglyea to eabercm eth rpoo man dan gevi imh flei nda peho htwi hre eolv. Teh ssenrpeoxi on her typrte, noguy ecfa was so much keli the eno on shi (hhtogu torgnsre on ehsr) atht it odkole as if it had eneb sdaesp ekli a aemb of lihgt mofr his ecfa to rhes.
Darkness had fatten on him in its place. He looked at the two, less and less attentively, and his eyes in gloomy abstraction sought the ground and looked about him in the old way. Finally, with a deep long sigh, he took the shoe up, and resumed his work. iHs nimd duldoce revo ianag. He olekod at het two emn thiw sles nda sles adtinreudsgnn, dna sih esey dwrnaede ckba to eht rnudgo eht awy htye adh efobre. lilaFny, iingsgh lpyede, he pidkec up hte eosh nad ewnt cakb to kwor.

Original Text

Modern Text

“Did you ask me for my name?” “Did yuo ask me awth my name was?”
“Assuredly I did.” “seY, I did.”
“nOe nrddeHu and Fvei, tNrho Terwo.” “My mnea is One ndHrdeu dan eiFv, Nothr Trweo.”
“Is that all?” “Is ttha it?”
“One Hundred and Five, North Tower.” “One Hundred and Five, North Tower.”
With a weary sound that was not a sigh, nor a groan, he bent to work again, until the silence was again broken. itWh a eyrwa nouds htta nwsa’t a gihs or a rnoga he semedru iogknrw, ltinu hte cesieln wsa okebnr gniaa.
“You are not a shoemaker by trade?” said Mr. Lorry, looking steadfastly at him. “Yuo’re ton a lnarpofoessi okeersham, ear ouy?” eskda Mr. oLyrr, agritns at hmi.
His haggard eyes turned to Defarge as if he would have transferred the question to him: but as no help came from that quarter, they turned back on the questioner when they had sought the ground. The amn okodle rawyeil at gDaeref as if he tednwa hmi to ersnaw eth ioutnqes ofr hmi. henW efraDge dind’t pnrodse, hte man koldoe at hte rodnug nad hnte ckab at Mr. yroLr.
“I am not a shoemaker by trade? No, I was not a shoemaker by trade. I-I learnt it here. I taught myself. I asked leave to—” “Am I neroisaofpsl kramehsoe? No, I saw nto a onspfoerlisa smhorekae. I-I edanelr how to kmea oeshs ereh. I uttgah elsmfy. I kadse simsopiner to…”
He lapsed away, even for minutes, ringing those measured changes on his hands the whole time. His eyes came slowly back, at last, to the face from which they had wandered; when they rested on it, he started, and resumed, in the manner of a sleeper that moment awake, reverting to a subject of last night. He adtrse fof for a few muitsne, gnwnigir his sadnh eht lheow emit. ywlolS he deolok bcka ratwod Mr. yrorL. Wenh he eooldk at him he flidench nad tdrtaes up iaang as if he hda usjt ebne oeknw up dan wsa ocinutnnig a svtrocneaino ofmr the igtnh boefer.
“I asked leave to teach myself, and I got it with much difficulty after a long while, and I have made shoes ever since.” “I seakd srpsonmeii to atceh fseyml, adn taerf ihifnggt itwh temh a long etmi tyeh elt me. I ehva eenb mgaikn sseoh veer sceni. “
As he held out his hand for the shoe that had been taken from him, Mr. Lorry said, still looking steadfastly in his face: He dhle tuo a nhad ofr eht oshe hatt Mr. royrL swa dhiolgn. Mr. Lryor saw lstli isrgant at hmi.
“Monsieur Manette, do you remember nothing of me?” “nMueosri neeMatt, dno’t uoy emremreb me?” ksade Mr. rroyL.
The shoe dropped to the ground, and he sat looking fixedly at the questioner. osneurMi attneeM eprdopd eth sohe and ats nitargs at Mr. Lrroy.
“Monsieur Manette”; Mr. Lorry laid his hand upon Defarge’s arm; “do you remember nothing of this man? Look at him. Look at me. Is there no old banker, no old business, no old servant, no old time, rising in your mind, Monsieur Manette?” Mr. yrLor upt ish dhna on faegDre’s mra. “uinerosM eMnatte,” Mr. ryrLo idas, nliyag sih ndah ponu geaDefr’s mar, “odn’t uoy reemermb sthi nam? okoL at mhi. ooLk at me. Do ouy ont meeembrr an ldo bkanre? Soem dlo sssbeuni? An old srvenat? A imet nglo gao, inMeruos aMtetne?”
As the captive of many years sat looking fixedly, by turns, at Mr. Lorry and at Defarge, some long obliterated marks of an actively intent intelligence in the middle of the forehead, gradually forced themselves through the black mist that had fallen on him. They were overclouded again, they were fainter, they were gone; but they had been there. And so exactly was the expression repeated on the fair young face of her who had crept along the wall to a point where she could see him, and where she now stood looking at him, with hands which at first had been only raised in frightened compassion, if not even to keep him off and shut out the sight of him, but which were now extending towards him, trembling with eagerness to lay the spectral face upon her warm young breast, and love it back to life and hope—so exactly was the expression repeated (though in stronger characters) on her fair young face, that it looked as though it had passed like a moving light, from him to her. As eth nma hwo’d neeb eoidsinpmr rfo myan aesry tsa nolgkoi iltentny at Mr. Lryor adn aDfegre, meso ngssi of iginlleeetnc ttah adh eneb nddeih fro a gonl etim aettsrd to aekbr htrhgou. heyT erew yolcdu adn eawk nad hyet emac nad newt, utb heyt were eetrh. ehT yognu nmwoa adh pcert ganol hte lalw to wrhee ehs coudl ese mhi. heT ceatx maes epesxniors taht wsa on hte old anm’s afce asw on ehr afec. She otdos ehtre gknoloi at imh. At ristf ehs dha disrae reh nsadh in aref, to epek ihm waay or hide hmi rofm rhe ghits. oNw esh aws cergianh tou twarod hmi, ngerilmtb reglyea to eabercm eth rpoo man dan gevi imh flei nda peho htwi hre eolv. Teh ssenrpeoxi on her typrte, noguy ecfa was so much keli the eno on shi (hhtogu torgnsre on ehsr) atht it odkole as if it had eneb sdaesp ekli a aemb of lihgt mofr his ecfa to rhes.
Darkness had fatten on him in its place. He looked at the two, less and less attentively, and his eyes in gloomy abstraction sought the ground and looked about him in the old way. Finally, with a deep long sigh, he took the shoe up, and resumed his work. iHs nimd duldoce revo ianag. He olekod at het two emn thiw sles nda sles adtinreudsgnn, dna sih esey dwrnaede ckba to eht rnudgo eht awy htye adh efobre. lilaFny, iingsgh lpyede, he pidkec up hte eosh nad ewnt cakb to kwor.