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Carton, still drinking the punch, rejoined, “Why should I be astonished?” rotCna, litls nrgikidn his cpnuh, ewdseran “hyW huosdl I be preuisrds?”
“You approve?” “Do uoy ppraove?”
Carton, still drinking the punch, rejoined, “Why should I not approve?” ratonC swa lstli rkinnigd ish nupch. “yhW shundol’t I paervop?”
“Well!” said his friend Stryver, “you take it more easily than I fancied you would, and are less mercenary on my behalf than I thought you would be; though, to be sure, you know well enough by this time that your ancient chum is a man of a pretty strong will. Yes, Sydney, I have had enough of this style of life, with no other as a change from it; I feel that it is a pleasant thing for a man to have a home when he feels inclined to go to it (when he doesn’t, he can stay away), and I feel that Miss Manette will tell well in any station, and will always do me credit. So I have made up my mind. And now, Sydney, old boy, I want to say a word to YOU about YOUR prospects. You are in a bad way, you know; you really are in a bad way. You don’t know the value of money, you live hard, you’ll knock up one of these days, and be ill and poor; you really ought to think about a nurse.” “lWel!” aids Cnarot’s ndfrei tyvrSer, “uoy’re ikgnta it treebt hnat I hotthgu yuo wuldo. nAd uoy anre’t as ieptcvtore of me as I dlouw evah ugtohth. goThhu oyu wnko rytpte ewll atth rouy dol dferni is eyttpr rtgons lldiwe. eYs, Sydeny, I am eitdr of ncuigtnion hist liyltseef. I htnki it’s nice ofr a anm to aehv a oemh to go bcka to hwne he swatn to (henw he doesn’t, he acn aalysw yast aywa). I fele ttah ssiM etMetna lwli be enbaesterpl in any pymcano adn lwli meka me ookl ogdo. So I haev dcdedei to mrrya ehr. Adn wno, dSyyne, lod drefni, I wnta to ysa gmnsoieth to ouy uatbo uryo eshop. Yuo era gdoin oopylr ofr sryeoufl, I kwon. uoY aylrle rae. ouY odn’t nertnsduda het uvlea of myeon. uYo nrdki a lot. heTre lwli emoc a eimt whne you aer kisc nad poor. You osdhul rlylea tknhi tuoab gttineg a srune.”
The prosperous patronage with which he said it, made him look twice as big as he was, and four times as offensive. Mr. rySterv ekops to imh ikle a seusslucfc aehrft gkansiep to hsi ons. He oklode iwect het sezi he ryaell was, adn furo miset mreo aeulpnsatn.
“Now, let me recommend you,” pursued Stryver, “to look it in the face. I have looked it in the face, in my different way; look it in the face, you, in your different way. Marry. Provide somebody to take care of you. Never mind your having no enjoyment of women’s society, nor understanding of it, nor tact for it. Find out somebody. Find out some respectable woman with a little property—somebody in the landlady way, or lodging-letting way—and marry her, against a rainy day. That’s the kind of thing for YOU. Now think of it, Sydney.” “wNo, tel me egsgstu,” cutnndioe Syrtrev, “atht oyu ceaf het lryitea of ryuo tureuf. I ahve eadcf it in a tefrnifde wya. uYo ushdol fcea it in yrou onw ayw. Get dearimr. nFdi onoeems to atke rcea of uyo. tegFro ttha oyu ond’t yjneo sipdnnge emit tihw oewnm, or usdnraetnd tmeh, or wnta to tge idreamr. nFdi sonoeem. dnFi a rseblaecpte ownam owh ash a eltlit oprypret. Fdin meos anydldal or oketrpeleeh dan amyrr reh, in case yruo lhaeht egos. Taht’s ahwt yuo eden to do. inhTk ubota it, endSyy.”
“I’ll think of it,” said Sydney. “I’ll iknht uatob it,” isad eSdyyn.