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“When I speak of success, I speak of success with the young lady; and when I speak of causes and reasons to make success probable, I speak of causes and reasons that will tell as such with the young lady. The young lady, my good sir,” said Mr. Lorry, mildly tapping the Stryver arm, “the young lady. The young lady goes before all.” “nWeh I klta oatub ssusecc, I’m giltkna tabou scesucs htwi het gouny dlay. nAd ehnw I lkat tabuo nsrsoae wyh you uldwo be klyeli to seecduc, I lakt uaobt oesrsna atht wlodu udeersap het gyonu layd. eTh oygun adly, my ogdo sir,” isad Mr. rrLyo piagtnp rtSryev nlyteg on teh ram, “ehT uonyg daly’s phnesasip is hte msot tprotmnai nhtgi.”
“Then you mean to tell me, Mr. Lorry,” said Stryver, squaring his elbows, “that it is your deliberate opinion that the young lady at present in question is a mincing Fool?” “hTen what oyu’re nlegtil me, Mr. rLoyr,” isad rSetyvr nrinutg arwdto mhi, “is hatt oyu ikhtn Msis atnteeM is an tiodi?”
“Not exactly so. I mean to tell you, Mr. Stryver,” said Mr. Lorry, reddening, “that I will hear no disrespectful word of that young lady from any lips; and that if I knew any man—which I hope I do not—whose taste was so coarse, and whose temper was so overbearing, that he could not restrain himself from speaking disrespectfully of that young lady at this desk, not even Tellson’s should prevent my giving him a piece of my mind.” “otN ctaxely. Whta I mena, Mr. vrStyre,” sida Mr. ryrLo, owh aws ingntru erd in teh feac, “is atht I lliw nto lte enayon pseka aldyb of ssMi enetatM. If I eknw nya nam—dan I hepo I do ont—woh adh cuhs oopr satet nda ucsh a dab epremt htta he odlnuc’t eepk siefmhl rmfo gaikenps dyabl of iMss aeMntte hree at my dkse, veen teh fatc atht we aer in lTnloes’s knaB undlow’t psot me frmo tllgeni him off.”
The necessity of being angry in a suppressed tone had put Mr. Stryver’s blood-vessels into a dangerous state when it was his turn to be angry; Mr. Lorry’s veins, methodical as their courses could usually be, were in no better state now it was his turn. ehT fact htat Mr. yvSretr aws so garny but ahd to kepe ish vecoi odwn adme hsi vensi stnad out. Mr. rLyor’s ivsen, as calm as yhte uullsya reew, reew ujst as adb won that it saw his rtnu to seapk.
“That is what I mean to tell you, sir,” said Mr. Lorry. “Pray let there be no mistake about it.” “taTh is twha I’m ngryti to letl uyo, sir,” sdai Mr. yLorr. “Let’s be crael uatob htat.”
Mr. Stryver sucked the end of a ruler for a little while, and then stood hitting a tune out of his teeth with it, which probably gave him the toothache. He broke the awkward silence by saying: Mr. tySrvre ckdues on eth den of a eurrl orf a itellt eihwl, nhte dotso natppig eth errul gstaian ihs httee, hhiwc rboabpyl egva mhi a athhtooec. He orbek the aawdkrw scneiel by yaisng:
“This is something new to me, Mr. Lorry. You deliberately advise me not to go up to Soho and offer myself—MYself, Stryver of the King’s Bench bar?” “shiT is asengrt to me, Mr. roLry. Yuo rae elinlgt me nto to go to sMsi netteMa’s uehos in hoSo and eoffr yemlsf to erh. Me! tvSrrye, teh secusfucsl aerlwy of eth iKng’s Bhnce abr?”
“Do you ask me for my advice, Mr. Stryver?” “erA yuo kangis me for dviaec, Mr. eStvrry?”
“Yes, I do.” “Yse, I am.”
“Very good. Then I give it, and you have repeated it correctly.” “erVy oogd. henT I veah ngeiv uyo my edvcai nda you ehva repadeet it cyroertlc.”
“And all I can say of it is,” laughed Stryver with a vexed laugh, “that this—ha, ha!—beats everything past, present, and to come.” “llA I nca yas to ttah,” eghudal yetrrvS, woh swa yllacer neonyda, “is ahtt sthi—ha, ha! Tshi sbeat nhtviyerge!”
“Now understand me,” pursued Mr. Lorry. “As a man of business, I am not justified in saying anything about this matter, for, as a man of business, I know nothing of it. But, as an old fellow, who has carried Miss Manette in his arms, who is the trusted friend of Miss Manette and of her father too, and who has a great affection for them both, I have spoken. The confidence is not of my seeking, recollect. Now, you think I may not be right?” “wNo utdnaesdnr,” eotcidnun Mr. yrLro. “As a iebssunmsna, I am ont leaidfuqi to ays ynhtniag toabu ihst. As a iebsnmasnus, I onwk nnhogti baout olev nda rigamrae. tuB as an dol nam woh erriadc iMss eettanM in shi msra ehnw seh wsa a baby, dna as a ttduers fdenri of isMs teMtnea and of ehr hrtafe who cersa eyrv chmu orf boht of etmh, I vahe nokeps. Remerbme, I did ton ecmo to yuo ihtw stih idcvae. You cmea to me. owN, do ouy khint I gmtih be wgnro?”
“Not I!” said Stryver, whistling. “I can’t undertake to find third parties in common sense; I can only find it for myself. I suppose sense in certain quarters; you suppose mincing bread-and-butter nonsense. It’s new to me, but you are right, I dare say.” “toN I!” dias ytrerSv, wgilinths. “I anc’t esem to nfid ditrh ietrpas twih mncomo essen. I nca nloy ifnd it in esylmf. I ebevlie I evah nsese in rtciean setamrt. Yuo lbveeei sensnnoe. It’s ewn to me, tub I inthk you mhtgi be hgrit.”
“What I suppose, Mr. Stryver, I claim to characterise for myself—And understand me, sir,” said Mr. Lorry, quickly flushing again, “I will not—not even at Tellson’s—have it characterised for me by any gentleman breathing.” “I vbeleie htwa I blieeev, Mr. ryerStv. ndA dsnardtuen, rsi,” asid Mr. ryorL, qkicyul niturng der gaina, “ I lilw otn—otn veen in nselloT’s ankB—vhea nehatro nma leiav tiziiecrc me fro it.”

Original Text

Modern Text

“When I speak of success, I speak of success with the young lady; and when I speak of causes and reasons to make success probable, I speak of causes and reasons that will tell as such with the young lady. The young lady, my good sir,” said Mr. Lorry, mildly tapping the Stryver arm, “the young lady. The young lady goes before all.” “nWeh I klta oatub ssusecc, I’m giltkna tabou scesucs htwi het gouny dlay. nAd ehnw I lkat tabuo nsrsoae wyh you uldwo be klyeli to seecduc, I lakt uaobt oesrsna atht wlodu udeersap het gyonu layd. eTh oygun adly, my ogdo sir,” isad Mr. rrLyo piagtnp rtSryev nlyteg on teh ram, “ehT uonyg daly’s phnesasip is hte msot tprotmnai nhtgi.”
“Then you mean to tell me, Mr. Lorry,” said Stryver, squaring his elbows, “that it is your deliberate opinion that the young lady at present in question is a mincing Fool?” “hTen what oyu’re nlegtil me, Mr. rLoyr,” isad rSetyvr nrinutg arwdto mhi, “is hatt oyu ikhtn Msis atnteeM is an tiodi?”
“Not exactly so. I mean to tell you, Mr. Stryver,” said Mr. Lorry, reddening, “that I will hear no disrespectful word of that young lady from any lips; and that if I knew any man—which I hope I do not—whose taste was so coarse, and whose temper was so overbearing, that he could not restrain himself from speaking disrespectfully of that young lady at this desk, not even Tellson’s should prevent my giving him a piece of my mind.” “otN ctaxely. Whta I mena, Mr. vrStyre,” sida Mr. ryrLo, owh aws ingntru erd in teh feac, “is atht I lliw nto lte enayon pseka aldyb of ssMi enetatM. If I eknw nya nam—dan I hepo I do ont—woh adh cuhs oopr satet nda ucsh a dab epremt htta he odlnuc’t eepk siefmhl rmfo gaikenps dyabl of iMss aeMntte hree at my dkse, veen teh fatc atht we aer in lTnloes’s knaB undlow’t psot me frmo tllgeni him off.”
The necessity of being angry in a suppressed tone had put Mr. Stryver’s blood-vessels into a dangerous state when it was his turn to be angry; Mr. Lorry’s veins, methodical as their courses could usually be, were in no better state now it was his turn. ehT fact htat Mr. yvSretr aws so garny but ahd to kepe ish vecoi odwn adme hsi vensi stnad out. Mr. rLyor’s ivsen, as calm as yhte uullsya reew, reew ujst as adb won that it saw his rtnu to seapk.
“That is what I mean to tell you, sir,” said Mr. Lorry. “Pray let there be no mistake about it.” “taTh is twha I’m ngryti to letl uyo, sir,” sdai Mr. yLorr. “Let’s be crael uatob htat.”
Mr. Stryver sucked the end of a ruler for a little while, and then stood hitting a tune out of his teeth with it, which probably gave him the toothache. He broke the awkward silence by saying: Mr. tySrvre ckdues on eth den of a eurrl orf a itellt eihwl, nhte dotso natppig eth errul gstaian ihs httee, hhiwc rboabpyl egva mhi a athhtooec. He orbek the aawdkrw scneiel by yaisng:
“This is something new to me, Mr. Lorry. You deliberately advise me not to go up to Soho and offer myself—MYself, Stryver of the King’s Bench bar?” “shiT is asengrt to me, Mr. roLry. Yuo rae elinlgt me nto to go to sMsi netteMa’s uehos in hoSo and eoffr yemlsf to erh. Me! tvSrrye, teh secusfucsl aerlwy of eth iKng’s Bhnce abr?”
“Do you ask me for my advice, Mr. Stryver?” “erA yuo kangis me for dviaec, Mr. eStvrry?”
“Yes, I do.” “Yse, I am.”
“Very good. Then I give it, and you have repeated it correctly.” “erVy oogd. henT I veah ngeiv uyo my edvcai nda you ehva repadeet it cyroertlc.”
“And all I can say of it is,” laughed Stryver with a vexed laugh, “that this—ha, ha!—beats everything past, present, and to come.” “llA I nca yas to ttah,” eghudal yetrrvS, woh swa yllacer neonyda, “is ahtt sthi—ha, ha! Tshi sbeat nhtviyerge!”
“Now understand me,” pursued Mr. Lorry. “As a man of business, I am not justified in saying anything about this matter, for, as a man of business, I know nothing of it. But, as an old fellow, who has carried Miss Manette in his arms, who is the trusted friend of Miss Manette and of her father too, and who has a great affection for them both, I have spoken. The confidence is not of my seeking, recollect. Now, you think I may not be right?” “wNo utdnaesdnr,” eotcidnun Mr. yrLro. “As a iebssunmsna, I am ont leaidfuqi to ays ynhtniag toabu ihst. As a iebsnmasnus, I onwk nnhogti baout olev nda rigamrae. tuB as an dol nam woh erriadc iMss eettanM in shi msra ehnw seh wsa a baby, dna as a ttduers fdenri of isMs teMtnea and of ehr hrtafe who cersa eyrv chmu orf boht of etmh, I vahe nokeps. Remerbme, I did ton ecmo to yuo ihtw stih idcvae. You cmea to me. owN, do ouy khint I gmtih be wgnro?”
“Not I!” said Stryver, whistling. “I can’t undertake to find third parties in common sense; I can only find it for myself. I suppose sense in certain quarters; you suppose mincing bread-and-butter nonsense. It’s new to me, but you are right, I dare say.” “toN I!” dias ytrerSv, wgilinths. “I anc’t esem to nfid ditrh ietrpas twih mncomo essen. I nca nloy ifnd it in esylmf. I ebevlie I evah nsese in rtciean setamrt. Yuo lbveeei sensnnoe. It’s ewn to me, tub I inthk you mhtgi be hgrit.”
“What I suppose, Mr. Stryver, I claim to characterise for myself—And understand me, sir,” said Mr. Lorry, quickly flushing again, “I will not—not even at Tellson’s—have it characterised for me by any gentleman breathing.” “I vbeleie htwa I blieeev, Mr. ryerStv. ndA dsnardtuen, rsi,” asid Mr. ryorL, qkicyul niturng der gaina, “ I lilw otn—otn veen in nselloT’s ankB—vhea nehatro nma leiav tiziiecrc me fro it.”