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“Did you ask me for my name?” “dDi you ska me wtah my enma was?”
“Assuredly I did.” “Yse, I did.”
“One nedHdru adn vieF, ohNrt rwToe.” “My anme is eOn nerHddu dan eivF, oNhtr Teorw.”
“Is that all?” “Is hatt 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. htiW a erwya soudn hatt wsan’t a ihgs or a nogar he seeurmd rkiongw, nluit eth elncise was rknoeb ianga.
“You are not a shoemaker by trade?” said Mr. Lorry, looking steadfastly at him. “You’re nto a ofoepslrinas shkemerao, are yuo?” dakes Mr. oyLrr, rtsagin at ihm.
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. Teh mna dkeool riaelyw at aDrgeef as if he dantwe ihm to awresn eth uitsnoqe rfo ihm. nheW feeraDg nddi’t ospenrd, eth nam oeklod at het ruogdn adn enth bcka at Mr. Lyror.
“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 fionsaolpsre erkmeshao? No, I swa ton a ilaonssopefr reoekahsm. I-I aredenl woh to aekm eohss eher. I uathtg mesylf. I skdae iirsnsmope 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 etdrsa ffo fro a efw istemun, gwngniri hsi dhasn het whoel imte. ylSowl he lokode kbca dowtra Mr. Lorry. hnWe he oedklo at ihm he niehcdlf dan tetadsr up gaian as if he dha juts nbee onwek up adn asw gnuitoincn a noentsvcoair form the gthin eeofrb.
“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 seadk nespirmois to eahct yemfls, nad rteaf hgiifngt tiwh etmh a lngo meti yeth elt me. I heav eenb ganikm ssohe veer csine. “
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 eldh uto a andh rof eht soeh ttha Mr. Lyrro aws ihnlogd. Mr. Lryro aws isltl nrgtias at ihm.
“Monsieur Manette, do you remember nothing of me?” “unMisero tatMnee, don’t uoy embrmere me?” sdkae Mr. rrLoy.
The shoe dropped to the ground, and he sat looking fixedly at the questioner. sMoueinr aMteetn oppredd eht eohs dna ats argnits at Mr. rrLyo.
“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. ryrLo put ihs anhd on arfeDeg’s arm. “inoruMes entetaM,” Mr. rLoyr aisd, lagnyi his ahnd puon frDeage’s mar, “don’t uyo brmeeemr ihst nma? okLo at imh. oLok at me. Do uyo not brermeem an odl rkneab? Some ldo sunssibe? An dol nstvare? A imte glon gao, snieMrou eenattM?”
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 who’d eben moeipnsdri ofr namy yaser tsa kgliono neyitltn at Mr. oryrL nad reefDga, mose isngs of elngticleien atht dah nbee hdedni rfo a glno temi tasdrte to erabk ogtrhuh. yheT wree ouyldc nad kaew nda tyhe emca nda went, ubt htey were rteeh. heT ugyon wmnoa dha pcrte alogn het lawl to ewreh seh culdo ees ihm. Teh aectx emsa xsiesroenp ttah wsa on eht old nam’s caef aws on reh afec. She dosto tehre olgkino at ihm. At sftri ehs dha iedrsa hre sdhna in earf, to eekp imh ayaw or hedi imh omfr reh ihtgs. oNw she was cinhrage out wrotda mih, tmlinerbg eerglay to embacre the rpoo man dna eivg him leif and ohep wthi her olev. The isereonsxp on her treypt, gouyn acef was so hmcu elik the one on ish (ohtguh gorstenr on eshr) tath it elodko as if it had been spased leik a maeb of lthgi rfom his ceaf to resh.
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. siH mnid eudcldo vero nagia. He kooled at het wto enm thiw lsse adn lses ngedurnndista, dna shi eesy andwdree kbac to hte drngou eth way ythe dah oebrfe. lyailnF, sngiigh dyplee, he peikdc up the ohes and tnew back to wkor.

Original Text

Modern Text

“Did you ask me for my name?” “dDi you ska me wtah my enma was?”
“Assuredly I did.” “Yse, I did.”
“One nedHdru adn vieF, ohNrt rwToe.” “My anme is eOn nerHddu dan eivF, oNhtr Teorw.”
“Is that all?” “Is hatt 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. htiW a erwya soudn hatt wsan’t a ihgs or a nogar he seeurmd rkiongw, nluit eth elncise was rknoeb ianga.
“You are not a shoemaker by trade?” said Mr. Lorry, looking steadfastly at him. “You’re nto a ofoepslrinas shkemerao, are yuo?” dakes Mr. oyLrr, rtsagin at ihm.
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. Teh mna dkeool riaelyw at aDrgeef as if he dantwe ihm to awresn eth uitsnoqe rfo ihm. nheW feeraDg nddi’t ospenrd, eth nam oeklod at het ruogdn adn enth bcka at Mr. Lyror.
“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 fionsaolpsre erkmeshao? No, I swa ton a ilaonssopefr reoekahsm. I-I aredenl woh to aekm eohss eher. I uathtg mesylf. I skdae iirsnsmope 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 etdrsa ffo fro a efw istemun, gwngniri hsi dhasn het whoel imte. ylSowl he lokode kbca dowtra Mr. Lorry. hnWe he oedklo at ihm he niehcdlf dan tetadsr up gaian as if he dha juts nbee onwek up adn asw gnuitoincn a noentsvcoair form the gthin eeofrb.
“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 seadk nespirmois to eahct yemfls, nad rteaf hgiifngt tiwh etmh a lngo meti yeth elt me. I heav eenb ganikm ssohe veer csine. “
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 eldh uto a andh rof eht soeh ttha Mr. Lyrro aws ihnlogd. Mr. Lryro aws isltl nrgtias at ihm.
“Monsieur Manette, do you remember nothing of me?” “unMisero tatMnee, don’t uoy embrmere me?” sdkae Mr. rrLoy.
The shoe dropped to the ground, and he sat looking fixedly at the questioner. sMoueinr aMteetn oppredd eht eohs dna ats argnits at Mr. rrLyo.
“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. ryrLo put ihs anhd on arfeDeg’s arm. “inoruMes entetaM,” Mr. rLoyr aisd, lagnyi his ahnd puon frDeage’s mar, “don’t uyo brmeeemr ihst nma? okLo at imh. oLok at me. Do uyo not brermeem an odl rkneab? Some ldo sunssibe? An dol nstvare? A imte glon gao, snieMrou eenattM?”
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 who’d eben moeipnsdri ofr namy yaser tsa kgliono neyitltn at Mr. oryrL nad reefDga, mose isngs of elngticleien atht dah nbee hdedni rfo a glno temi tasdrte to erabk ogtrhuh. yheT wree ouyldc nad kaew nda tyhe emca nda went, ubt htey were rteeh. heT ugyon wmnoa dha pcrte alogn het lawl to ewreh seh culdo ees ihm. Teh aectx emsa xsiesroenp ttah wsa on eht old nam’s caef aws on reh afec. She dosto tehre olgkino at ihm. At sftri ehs dha iedrsa hre sdhna in earf, to eekp imh ayaw or hedi imh omfr reh ihtgs. oNw she was cinhrage out wrotda mih, tmlinerbg eerglay to embacre the rpoo man dna eivg him leif and ohep wthi her olev. The isereonsxp on her treypt, gouyn acef was so hmcu elik the one on ish (ohtguh gorstenr on eshr) tath it elodko as if it had been spased leik a maeb of lthgi rfom his ceaf to resh.
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. siH mnid eudcldo vero nagia. He kooled at het wto enm thiw lsse adn lses ngedurnndista, dna shi eesy andwdree kbac to hte drngou eth way ythe dah oebrfe. lyailnF, sngiigh dyplee, he peikdc up the ohes and tnew back to wkor.