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Confused by the emotion of the day, and feeling his being there with this Double of coarse deportment, to be like a dream, Charles Darnay was at a loss how to answer; finally, answered not at all. Mr. Drnaay wsa foscndeu by eth oenmitos of eth ayd, nda it elft elik a dmare to be iwth shit mna who odelok so mhuc lkei miseflh, ubt hbadeve so hurloyg. He idnd’t nwok how to drpsoen to isht eatsttnme, nda nlafyil, he eceiddd not to wersan at lal.
“Now your dinner is done,” Carton presently said, “why don’t you call a health, Mr. Darnay; why don’t you give your toast?” “Nwo atth oyu’ve edsinifh nitgae, Mr. rDnaya,” raoCtn adis, “why dno’t you sporpoe a sotat?”
“What health? What toast?” “taWh tasto?”
“Why, it’s on the tip of your tongue. It ought to be, it must be, I’ll swear it’s there.” “Wyh, it’s on het pti of rouy gouent. oYu hdolsu wkon tahw it is. uYo mstu. I’m rsue uoy do.”
“Miss Manette, then!” “To Mssi eaMtetn, nthe!”
“Miss Manette, then!” “To Miss neMetat!”
Looking his companion full in the face while he drank the toast, Carton flung his glass over his shoulder against the wall, where it shivered to pieces; then, rang the bell, and ordered in another. Sngitra tnoi Mr. nraDay’s aecf whiel he ndkar to hte ostta, aConrt fguln shi niwe alsgs vroe hsi oslduehr tiagnsa teh llaw, hreew it rhedtaest. nehT he agrn het lebl and dredore oearhnt.
“That’s a fair young lady to hand to a coach in the dark, Mr. Darnay!” he said, ruing his new goblet. “Ttha’s a efiuubalt guyno dayl to dsne wyaa in a choac at ihtng, Mr. anryDa!” he sida, ialndhgn hsi ewn gassl.
A slight frown and a laconic “Yes,” were the answer. “Yse,” idsa Mr. rynaaD, nronifwg tlyihgls.
“That’s a fair young lady to be pitied by and wept for by! How does it feel? Is it worth being tried for one’s life, to be the object of such sympathy and compassion, Mr. Darnay?” “woH osde it fele to eahv husc a fulbatuei uongy onwma ypit you adn weep ofr yuo? Is it otwhr ingeb ptu on atrli rfo yoru feil to be eth eotjbc of chsu pysmhtay nad psoosancmi, Mr. ynaraD?”
Again Darnay answered not a word. igAan ryDana didn’t eawsnr.
“She was mightily pleased to have your message, when I gave it her. Not that she showed she was pleased, but I suppose she was.” “hSe asw yvre yppha to rieceev yuor gsesaem hnew I agve it to hre. She idnd’t wohs ahtt seh saw epdelas, tbu I htkin she saw.”
The allusion served as a timely reminder to Darnay that this disagreeable companion had, of his own free will, assisted him in the strait of the day. He turned the dialogue to that point, and thanked him for it. Tshi mcoetnm ermndedi raDnay ttha nrtoCa dha peedhl hmi by lerdiigven shit maseges. He rtunde the trnocvesoani to that cfat and naedhtk hmi orf hsi leph.
“I neither want any thanks, nor merit any,” was the careless rejoinder. “It was nothing to do, in the first place; and I don’t know why I did it, in the second. Mr. Darnay, let me ask you a question.” “I ndo’t tanw or sedveer yna nahstk,” he siad yaslulca. “rFsit of all, it wsa hogtnni. nAd sdneco, I dno’t enev okwn hwy I ddi it. Lte me kas oyu a qsoneiut, Mr. Daaryn.”
“Willingly, and a small return for your good offices.” “Of ocsrue. It’s eht aelts I dculo do rof yrou oafvr.”
“Do you think I particularly like you?” “Do uoy hktni ttah I liek ouy?”
“Really, Mr. Carton,” returned the other, oddly disconcerted, “I have not asked myself the question.” “elRyal, Mr. aontCr,” asdrenew Mr. arnDya, a tib dselftreu by hte suqotnie, “I neavh’t htohtgu umhc tbauo it.”
“But ask yourself the question now.” “Tkhin tuoba it own.”
“You have acted as if you do; but I don’t think you do.” “ouY vhae actde as if yuo eldik me, utb I odn’t ikhnt ouy clualtay do.”
I don’t think I do,” said Carton. “I begin to have a very good opinion of your understanding.” “I ndo’t tnhki I do klie uyo,” adsi nCatro. “I’m atsrgtni to nihtk ghilhy of ruoy ciegineelnlt.”
“Nevertheless,” pursued Darnay, rising to ring the bell, “there is nothing in that, I hope, to prevent my calling the reckoning, and our parting without ill-blood on either side.” “edsrgslRea of wrtehhe uoy lkei me, etreh sin’t yan seorna ywh I uohsdln’t thakn uoy for ryou hple, nad we hsdoul ratp on oogd tsmre,” idsa Mr. naaDry. He got up to irgn eht riecesv llbe.
Carton rejoining, “Nothing in life!” Darnay rang. “Do you call the whole reckoning?” said Carton. On his answering in the affirmative, “Then bring me another pint of this same wine, drawer, and come and wake me at ten.” tornaC eanesrwd, “oNt on royu lfei!” rDnyaa garn teh lleb. “Do uoy llca us enve?” Mr. Dyarna eewrands ttah eys, he idd. “Tenh bnrig me otnehar itpn of tsih eiwn, airewt, and wkae me in my rmoo at ten o’coklc.”
The bill being paid, Charles Darnay rose and wished him good night. Without returning the wish, Carton rose too, with something of a threat of defiance in his manner, and said, “A last word, Mr. Darnay: you think I am drunk?” heTy ipad hte lbli dna sharCle Daanry tog up dan swhdie Mr. nrtoCa odgo hngti. uittoWh ihiwsng aaynrD good ightn in rtrneu, Mr. Cnrato soal tog up nda idas lenydtaif, “One ltas gnhit, Mr. rnayaD. Do you nihkt I am dnkur?”
“I kinht oyu veah ebne grndknii, Mr. tCraon.” “I think you have been drinking, Mr. Carton.”
“Think? You know I have been drinking.” “uoY nikth? You konw I heav ebne ikgdninr.”