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“Since I must say so, I know it.” “Yes, I know it.”
“Then you shall likewise know why. I am a disappointed drudge, sir. I care for no man on earth, and no man on earth cares for me.” “Then I will tell you why. I am unhappy and overworked, sir. I don’t like anyone in the world, and no one likes me.”
“Much to be regretted. You might have used your talents better.” “I’m sorry to hear that. You might have put your skills to better use.”
“May be so, Mr. Darnay; may be not. Don’t let your sober face elate you, however; you don’t know what it may come to. Good night!” “Perhaps, Mr. Darnay. Perhaps not. Don’t let your sober self get too excited. You don’t know what trouble you might get yourself into. Good night!”
When he was left alone, this strange being took up a candle, went to a glass that hung against the wall, and surveyed himself minutely in it. When he was alone, Mr. Carton picked up the candle and went over to a mirror hanging on the wall. He looked at himself closely in it.
“Do you particularly like the man?” he muttered, at his own image; “why should you particularly like a man who resembles you? There is nothing in you to like; you know that. Ah, confound you! What a change you have made in yourself! A good reason for taking to a man, that he shows you what you have fallen away from, and what you might have been! Change places with him, and would you have been looked at by those blue eyes as he was, and commiserated by that agitated face as he was? Come on, and have it out in plain words! You hate the fellow.” “Do you like that man?” he mumbled to his reflection. “Why should you like a man who looks like you? There is nothing likable about you. You know that. Ah, you’re confused! How much you’ve changed! That man reminds you of what you used to be like and what you might have become. That’s a good reason to like him. If you traded places with him, would Miss Manette have looked at you with her blue eyes the way she looked at him? Would she have been as concerned if you had been on trial? Come on and say it plainly. You hate that man.”
He resorted to his pint of wine for consolation, drank it all in a few minutes, and fell asleep on his arms, with his hair straggling over the table, and a long winding-sheet in the candle dripping down upon him. He drank his wine to console himself. He drank it all in a few minutes and fell asleep with his head on his arms. His hair was spread out over the table, and candle wax dripped down and covered him like a

winding sheet

a sheet that a dead person is buried in

winding sheet