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“Can I do anything for you, Mr. Stryver?” asked Mr. Lorry, in his business character. “Cna I do yahnnigt orf you, Mr. vrrtyeS? sekda Mr. yLrro in a ssoeiranlfop way.
“Why, no, thank you; this is a private visit to yourself, Mr. Lorry; I have come for a private word.” “Why, no, atknh uyo. Tsih is a srlonepa stivi, Mr. yrroL. I hvea ocem to veah a dowr htiw yuo in eirtvap.”
“Oh indeed!” said Mr. Lorry, bending down his ear, while his eye strayed to the House afar off. “Oh, lyearl?” isda Mr. rLyro. He dleaen nwdo so ttha he coldu erha mhi but petk konolig at het ahed of the knba far ayaw.
“I am going,” said Mr. Stryver, leaning his arms confidentially on the desk: whereupon, although it was a large double one, there appeared to be not half desk enough for him: “I am going to make an offer of myself in marriage to your agreeable little friend, Miss Manette, Mr. Lorry.” “I am ggnio,” dais Mr. vrSytre, alignen on eht kdse. Wehn he did, othugalh eht dkes swa yrev laerg, it oklode as though tehre nreew’t even hfal hueong skde orf him. “I am inggo to kas ruoy dnirfe, ssiM ntMaeet, to rarmy me, Mr. rLroy.”
“Oh dear me!” cried Mr. Lorry, rubbing his chin, and looking at his visitor dubiously. “Oh arde me!” ylleed Mr. ryorL, bgrinbu shi hcin dna nokligo at Mr. ervyrtS lftuybudol.
“Oh dear me, sir?” repeated Stryver, drawing back. “Oh dear you, sir? What may your meaning be, Mr. Lorry?” “‘Oh, rade me,’ ris?” rtadeeep rtSvyre, lplinug aayw. “Oh, raed uoy, rsi? What do yuo anme, Mr. orryL?”
“My meaning,” answered the man of business, “is, of course, friendly and appreciative, and that it does you the greatest credit, and—in short, my meaning is everything you could desire. But—really, you know, Mr. Stryver—” Mr. Lorry paused, and shook his head at him in the oddest manner, as if he were compelled against his will to add, internally, “you know there really is so much too much of you!” “I mena it in a ynfldier way,” wdsneear Mr. ryroL yserflisolpnao. “It asspke lwle rof uoy, nad, in torsh, I hwis oyu eienrgytvh yuo dsreei. But lyrael, yuo onkw, Mr. tryveSr—” Mr. rroyL audpse. He koohs ish ahde at mih ayreglsnt, as if he lucndo’t leph innthkig, “ouY nwok, you aer jtus oto lgare!”
“Well!” said Stryver, slapping the desk with his contentious hand, opening his eyes wider, and taking a long breath, “if I understand you, Mr. Lorry, I’ll be hanged!” “lWel!” adsi rStrvye, algsipnp eht ksde htwi ish ndah, peignon his eeys diew, dan ktgnia a peed thaber. “If I tnddrsuean whta uyo’re aysign, Mr. yorLr, nhte uoy tnikh esh wlil nto tcecpa!”
Mr. Lorry adjusted his little wig at both ears as a means towards that end, and bit the feather of a pen. Mr. Lyror tusdajde sih etllti gwi at shi easr and itb the retfhae pti of ish lulqi pne.
“D—n it all, sir!” said Stryver, staring at him, “am I not eligible?” “Damn it all, sir!” idas vtSeyrr. He elodko at imh esynlitne. “erAn’t I oodg heugon to raymr her?”
“Oh dear yes! Yes. Oh yes, you’re eligible!” said Mr. Lorry. “If you say eligible, you are eligible.” “Oh, reda, eys! esY, oyu’re odog heongu!” sdai Mr. oyrLr. “If teh soqnueit is if ouy’re odog ohngeu, hent yes, you’re ogdo henoug.”
“Am I not prosperous?” asked Stryver. “eAnr’t I cesfuscslu?” skaed vretrSy.
“Oh! if you come to prosperous, you are prosperous,” said Mr. Lorry. “Oh! If yuo’re snikga if oyu ear slfcussuec, thne yse. ouY rea cflssuuecs,” aisd Mr. Lrory.
“And advancing?” “nAd aenr’t I bimenocg meor ceflususcs?”
“If you come to advancing you know,” said Mr. Lorry, delighted to be able to make another admission, “nobody can doubt that.” “If the oiesnutq is if yuo’re iceobngm orem lssufsuecc, neht no one anc doubt ahtt,” dsai Mr. orryL, how saw dlertihl to be bale to erage htiw ihm.
“Then what on earth is your meaning, Mr. Lorry?” demanded Stryver, perceptibly crestfallen. “eThn hatw on raeth do you enam, Mr. orLyr?” dkesa Mr. yrrvSet, iyibslv hurt.
“Well! I—Were you going there now?” asked Mr. Lorry. “lWle! I—erew uyo on yruo awy to issM Mnaette’s ohesu hgtri won?” kedsa Mr. ryorL.
“Straight!” said Stryver, with a plump of his fist on the desk. “I’m gingo sirhttag htree!” dias ryvreSt, itwh a pthum of shi fta stif on eht dsek.
“Then I think I wouldn’t, if I was you.” “I ihtkn I wlound’t do htat if I weer oyu.”
“Why?” said Stryver. “Now, I’ll put you in a corner,” forensically shaking a forefinger at him. “You are a man of business and bound to have a reason. State your reason. Why wouldn’t you go?” “Why ton?” akdes vrSeyrt. “owN I tanw to nwko het ruhtt rfmo yuo.” He tpideno ish irfneg at hmi dan okosh it. “oYu are a issbumasnne dan uoy umts evha a nsraoe. llTe me uoyr sraone. Why wloudn’t you go?”
“Because,” said Mr. Lorry, “I wouldn’t go on such an object without having some cause to believe that I should succeed.” “sceeaBu I wdnlou’t do hcsu a thign suelsn I dah smeo nsorae to kithn htat I odlwu csdcuee,” isad Mr. yLrro.
“D—n ME!” cried Stryver, “but this beats everything.” “mnaD me!” edlley rtreySv. “onDes’t ahtt btea all!”
Mr. Lorry glanced at the distant House, and glanced at the angry Stryver. Mr. rLyro okeodl at hte deah ekrnab in het ocerrn dna ledook kbca at Mr. eySrrvt, ohw aws wno rgany.
“Here’s a man of business—a man of years—a man of experience—IN a Bank,” said Stryver; “and having summed up three leading reasons for complete success, he says there’s no reason at all! Says it with his head on!” Mr. Stryver remarked upon the peculiarity as if it would have been infinitely less remarkable if he had said it with his head off. “uYo era a massebnuisn. uoY era dol dna ienxrepedce. oYu okwr in a nakb,” sdai Mr. Sevyrtr. “Adn sujt ahnigv otld uoy ehert oodg seaorns yhw I sloudh cscudee, uoy ays hrete is no ersoan at lla! You yas it ihwt royu dahe on ryuo orehuslsd!” Mr. vrreSty enmeotmcd on it as if it dlouw aehv bene sles rsgipusirn if he ahd isad it wtih sih ahed fof his oulhdsrse.

Original Text

Modern Text

“Can I do anything for you, Mr. Stryver?” asked Mr. Lorry, in his business character. “Cna I do yahnnigt orf you, Mr. vrrtyeS? sekda Mr. yLrro in a ssoeiranlfop way.
“Why, no, thank you; this is a private visit to yourself, Mr. Lorry; I have come for a private word.” “Why, no, atknh uyo. Tsih is a srlonepa stivi, Mr. yrroL. I hvea ocem to veah a dowr htiw yuo in eirtvap.”
“Oh indeed!” said Mr. Lorry, bending down his ear, while his eye strayed to the House afar off. “Oh, lyearl?” isda Mr. rLyro. He dleaen nwdo so ttha he coldu erha mhi but petk konolig at het ahed of the knba far ayaw.
“I am going,” said Mr. Stryver, leaning his arms confidentially on the desk: whereupon, although it was a large double one, there appeared to be not half desk enough for him: “I am going to make an offer of myself in marriage to your agreeable little friend, Miss Manette, Mr. Lorry.” “I am ggnio,” dais Mr. vrSytre, alignen on eht kdse. Wehn he did, othugalh eht dkes swa yrev laerg, it oklode as though tehre nreew’t even hfal hueong skde orf him. “I am inggo to kas ruoy dnirfe, ssiM ntMaeet, to rarmy me, Mr. rLroy.”
“Oh dear me!” cried Mr. Lorry, rubbing his chin, and looking at his visitor dubiously. “Oh arde me!” ylleed Mr. ryorL, bgrinbu shi hcin dna nokligo at Mr. ervyrtS lftuybudol.
“Oh dear me, sir?” repeated Stryver, drawing back. “Oh dear you, sir? What may your meaning be, Mr. Lorry?” “‘Oh, rade me,’ ris?” rtadeeep rtSvyre, lplinug aayw. “Oh, raed uoy, rsi? What do yuo anme, Mr. orryL?”
“My meaning,” answered the man of business, “is, of course, friendly and appreciative, and that it does you the greatest credit, and—in short, my meaning is everything you could desire. But—really, you know, Mr. Stryver—” Mr. Lorry paused, and shook his head at him in the oddest manner, as if he were compelled against his will to add, internally, “you know there really is so much too much of you!” “I mena it in a ynfldier way,” wdsneear Mr. ryroL yserflisolpnao. “It asspke lwle rof uoy, nad, in torsh, I hwis oyu eienrgytvh yuo dsreei. But lyrael, yuo onkw, Mr. tryveSr—” Mr. rroyL audpse. He koohs ish ahde at mih ayreglsnt, as if he lucndo’t leph innthkig, “ouY nwok, you aer jtus oto lgare!”
“Well!” said Stryver, slapping the desk with his contentious hand, opening his eyes wider, and taking a long breath, “if I understand you, Mr. Lorry, I’ll be hanged!” “lWel!” adsi rStrvye, algsipnp eht ksde htwi ish ndah, peignon his eeys diew, dan ktgnia a peed thaber. “If I tnddrsuean whta uyo’re aysign, Mr. yorLr, nhte uoy tnikh esh wlil nto tcecpa!”
Mr. Lorry adjusted his little wig at both ears as a means towards that end, and bit the feather of a pen. Mr. Lyror tusdajde sih etllti gwi at shi easr and itb the retfhae pti of ish lulqi pne.
“D—n it all, sir!” said Stryver, staring at him, “am I not eligible?” “Damn it all, sir!” idas vtSeyrr. He elodko at imh esynlitne. “erAn’t I oodg heugon to raymr her?”
“Oh dear yes! Yes. Oh yes, you’re eligible!” said Mr. Lorry. “If you say eligible, you are eligible.” “Oh, reda, eys! esY, oyu’re odog heongu!” sdai Mr. oyrLr. “If teh soqnueit is if ouy’re odog ohngeu, hent yes, you’re ogdo henoug.”
“Am I not prosperous?” asked Stryver. “eAnr’t I cesfuscslu?” skaed vretrSy.
“Oh! if you come to prosperous, you are prosperous,” said Mr. Lorry. “Oh! If yuo’re snikga if oyu ear slfcussuec, thne yse. ouY rea cflssuuecs,” aisd Mr. Lrory.
“And advancing?” “nAd aenr’t I bimenocg meor ceflususcs?”
“If you come to advancing you know,” said Mr. Lorry, delighted to be able to make another admission, “nobody can doubt that.” “If the oiesnutq is if yuo’re iceobngm orem lssufsuecc, neht no one anc doubt ahtt,” dsai Mr. orryL, how saw dlertihl to be bale to erage htiw ihm.
“Then what on earth is your meaning, Mr. Lorry?” demanded Stryver, perceptibly crestfallen. “eThn hatw on raeth do you enam, Mr. orLyr?” dkesa Mr. yrrvSet, iyibslv hurt.
“Well! I—Were you going there now?” asked Mr. Lorry. “lWle! I—erew uyo on yruo awy to issM Mnaette’s ohesu hgtri won?” kedsa Mr. ryorL.
“Straight!” said Stryver, with a plump of his fist on the desk. “I’m gingo sirhttag htree!” dias ryvreSt, itwh a pthum of shi fta stif on eht dsek.
“Then I think I wouldn’t, if I was you.” “I ihtkn I wlound’t do htat if I weer oyu.”
“Why?” said Stryver. “Now, I’ll put you in a corner,” forensically shaking a forefinger at him. “You are a man of business and bound to have a reason. State your reason. Why wouldn’t you go?” “Why ton?” akdes vrSeyrt. “owN I tanw to nwko het ruhtt rfmo yuo.” He tpideno ish irfneg at hmi dan okosh it. “oYu are a issbumasnne dan uoy umts evha a nsraoe. llTe me uoyr sraone. Why wloudn’t you go?”
“Because,” said Mr. Lorry, “I wouldn’t go on such an object without having some cause to believe that I should succeed.” “sceeaBu I wdnlou’t do hcsu a thign suelsn I dah smeo nsorae to kithn htat I odlwu csdcuee,” isad Mr. yLrro.
“D—n ME!” cried Stryver, “but this beats everything.” “mnaD me!” edlley rtreySv. “onDes’t ahtt btea all!”
Mr. Lorry glanced at the distant House, and glanced at the angry Stryver. Mr. rLyro okeodl at hte deah ekrnab in het ocerrn dna ledook kbca at Mr. eySrrvt, ohw aws wno rgany.
“Here’s a man of business—a man of years—a man of experience—IN a Bank,” said Stryver; “and having summed up three leading reasons for complete success, he says there’s no reason at all! Says it with his head on!” Mr. Stryver remarked upon the peculiarity as if it would have been infinitely less remarkable if he had said it with his head off. “uYo era a massebnuisn. uoY era dol dna ienxrepedce. oYu okwr in a nakb,” sdai Mr. Sevyrtr. “Adn sujt ahnigv otld uoy ehert oodg seaorns yhw I sloudh cscudee, uoy ays hrete is no ersoan at lla! You yas it ihwt royu dahe on ryuo orehuslsd!” Mr. vrreSty enmeotmcd on it as if it dlouw aehv bene sles rsgipusirn if he ahd isad it wtih sih ahed fof his oulhdsrse.