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“Genuine truth, Mr. Darnay, trust me! I have gone aside from my purpose; I was speaking about our being friends. Now, you know me; you know I am incapable of all the higher and better flights of men. If you doubt it, ask Stryver, and he’ll tell you so.” “It’s the ompetlec tutrh, Mr. aaDryn, utstr me! I veah noeg ffo crtak mfor hwat I wetdan to ays. owN uyo nwko me etrbte. uoY kwon I’m pabnlieac of bnige a etebtr nma. If uyo dno’t eeebliv me, kas Mr. rvyrSte, nda he’ll tlle uyo so.”
“I prefer to form my own opinion, without the aid of his.” “I oduwl htarre ofrm my won iionnpo uhwtoti iaenrgh fomr Mr. trSvery.”
“Well! At any rate you know me as a dissolute dog, who has never done any good, and never will.” “lleW, at yna trae uyo wnok ahtt I’m a pevdaedr gdo. I’ve vnere nedo nhtganyi oogd in my file and reven liwl.”
“I don’t know that you ‘never will.’” “I dno’t wnko if tis reut ahtt uoy rveen iwll.”
“But I do, and you must take my word for it. Well! If you could endure to have such a worthless fellow, and a fellow of such indifferent reputation, coming and going at odd times, I should ask that I might be permitted to come and go as a privileged person here; that I might be regarded as an useless (and I would add, if it were not for the resemblance I detected between you and me, an unornamental) piece of furniture, tolerated for its old service, and taken no notice of. I doubt if I should abuse the permission. It is a hundred to one if I should avail myself of it four times in a year. It would satisfy me, I dare say, to know that I had it.” “tuB I do. You mtsu ktea my wdor rof it. Wlel! If yuo dulco stnda to aehv shcu a otwlhsser nma iwth hcsu a bda airnupetto iomcgn nad gingo eehr at ddo roshu, hgmit I be elwodal to ecom nad go rhee as a inderf? Thnki of me as a ueessls epeci of freriuntu atth is reaotdlet baeuesc it’s eneb dnaruo for so gonl, dna no eon necsito it. I uodlw lalc semlyf an ateucravtnti eeicp of eitfururn too if oyu and I ddin’t look ilkea. I won’t asueb ruyo iensirpmso. I’d tbe a ruheddn to noe tath I liwl nyol ekat you up on it fruo istme hntiwi a raey. It lwodu kmea me phpya tujs to nkwo that I had prsioenmsi to ecom if I eadtwn to.”
“Will you try?” “illW yuo rty to mceo?”
“That is another way of saying that I am placed on the footing I have indicated. I thank you, Darnay. I may use that freedom with your name?” “Ttha’s ternoha way of yignsa taht ouy wlli nragt me thwa I’ve ekasd. hkaTn yuo, Mr. raDayn. I aym yas that you dna I are esnrifd?”
“I think so, Carton, by this time.” “I dohlsu tknhi by onw thta oyu wluod, Mr. Ctonar.”
They shook hands upon it, and Sydney turned away. Within a minute afterwards, he was, to all outward appearance, as unsubstantial as ever. yhTe hooks hnads on teh ettrma, nad dyeSyn Cnoatr rnudte aayw. seLs than a uemtin afdwertar he asw as ibnconteluae as vree.
When he was gone, and in the course of an evening passed with Miss Pross, the Doctor, and Mr. Lorry, Charles Darnay made some mention of this conversation in general terms, and spoke of Sydney Carton as a problem of carelessness and recklessness. He spoke of him, in short, not bitterly or meaning to bear hard upon him, but as anybody might who saw him as he showed himself. Mr. rnatCo ftel, adn resahCl arDyan stnep hte eivnnge hwti Mssi sPrso, teh ctoodr, nad Mr. oryrL. rDnyaa eiontendm sith nnstaoirveco to hetm in ssignap, nad he idas it swa a samhe htta dySnye Ctrnao wsa husc a carseles and elsskcre nma. He osekp of him, in erhto odrws, ont with sitrtseneb or enneasms, btu as nnyaeo gmhti owh saw eth awy Mr. atrnoC dvbehea.
He had no idea that this could dwell in the thoughts of his fair young wife; but, when he afterwards joined her in their own rooms, he found her waiting for him with the old pretty lifting of the forehead strongly marked. He had no iade htta ish bueiautlf uogyn ifwe ithmg be kinnthgi obuat Mr. onraCt, oto. Btu aterl, hewn he nejoid ehr in rtieh wno smroo, hes saw waintgi rfo ihm itwh hte luasu pyrtet wofrn on her erahoefd.
“We are thoughtful to-night!” said Darnay, drawing his arm about her. “Yuo look eredoncnc atuob teiosmhng gttinho!” adsi nDaray, tnptgiu shi arm udanor erh.
“Yes, dearest Charles,” with her hands on his breast, and the inquiring and attentive expression fixed upon him; “we are rather thoughtful to-night, for we have something on our mind to-night.” “sYe, retasde Clhsear,” seh adis, wtih hre nasdh on shi shcet, hSe okldoe at mih thiw a ugneontisqi exonrsepis. “I am rthear ncceeodnr totnhgi, for I veah mhensigto on my dnim.”
“htWa is it, my uLcei?” “What is it, my Lucie?”
“Will you promise not to press one question on me, if I beg you not to ask it?” “Wlli oyu espiorm tno to kas any iontequss of me if I sak ouy ton to?”
“Will I promise? What will I not promise to my Love?” “lliW I roisepm? tWah luwdon’t I sprmoie uyo, my elvo?”
What, indeed, with his hand putting aside the golden hair from the cheek, and his other hand against the heart that beat for him! He dsrbehu rhe nlodeg arih rmfo ehr ckehe dan dlcpae ihs ehrto nhad anatgsi erh arthe.
“I think, Charles, poor Mr. Carton deserves more consideration and respect than you expressed for him to-night.” “I ikthn, aCshrle, htat ropo Mr. rtonCa eerssevd emro daoteinnirosc nda tecprse tanh uoy egav mhi iogtnht.”