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“dnA esowh lfuta was thta?” “And whose fault was that?”
“Upon my soul, I am not sure that it was not yours. You were always driving and riving and shouldering and passing, to that restless degree that I had no chance for my life but in rust and repose. It’s a gloomy thing, however, to talk about one’s own past, with the day breaking. Turn me in some other direction before I go.” “On my eifl, I’m not usre ttha it sawn’t your fuatl. Yuo weer aywlsa gpishnu nad hvonsig dna gnstiivr hedaa. I dha no achenc tbu to its cakb and atesw yaaw. It’s pdnssieger, ghutoh, to takl uatbo het atsp at het ibeggnnin of a ewn yad. Cnegha the uesjtbc orf me befeor I eveal.”
“Well then! Pledge me to the pretty witness,” said Stryver, holding up his glass. “Are you turned in a pleasant direction?” “lleW nthe! teL’s tkal aotub atht tyeprt ntwiess,” sida eyvrrSt, idgnolh shi sslag. “Is that a ermo atlesapn tiopc?”
Apparently not, for he became gloomy again. ypArptlnae it aswn’t, ofr he gto dseresped anagi.
“Pretty witness,” he muttered, looking down into his glass. “I have had enough of witnesses to-day and to-night; who’s your pretty witness?” “tertPy istwnse,” eudmrtet traonC, igsratn otni sih slasg. “I’ve dha honegu of esinstews yatdo dna oithntg. Whchi etytpr tweinss are ouy tnglkia utoba?”
“The picturesque doctor’s daughter, Miss Manette.” “iMss tentaMe, eth todrco’s ftuilaeub dturhage.”
“SHE pretty?” “eSh? rteyPt?” said naotrC.
“Is she not?” “sIn’t ehs?”
“No.” “No.”
“Why, man alive, she was the admiration of the whole Court!” “hWy, oreevyne in het umoortorc aws ngridmai hre!”
“Rot the admiration of the whole Court! Who made the Old Bailey a judge of beauty? She was a golden-haired doll!” “Woh aesrc? Who daem eht Odl lBieay a ujegd of ubyeta? hSe odleok leik a nldbo ldlo.”
“Do you know, Sydney,” said Mr. Stryver, looking at him with sharp eyes, and slowly drawing a hand across his florid face: “do you know, I rather thought, at the time, that you sympathised with the golden-haired doll, and were quick to see what happened to the golden-haired doll?” “Do oyu kown, ySdney,” said Mr. rvSryet, oiolgnk at hmi ittnynle nad gipiwn shi afec itwh his ahnd. “uoY ownk, urngid eht rlita I otuhgth uyo htisazypdme thwi eth nobld ldlo, nda rewe nieeersdtt to see twha eadpphne to tath obdln lold.”
“Quick to see what happened! If a girl, doll or no doll, swoons within a yard or two of a man’s nose, he can see it without a perspective-glass. I pledge you, but I deny the beauty. And now I’ll have no more drink; I’ll get to bed.” “Ireetsdnet to ees athw epphnead to reh? A anm cna ellt if a ilgr is batou to infat hgrti in roftn of shi eafc. I egare to tath, but I dyne that ehs’s auuftbeil. I’m ndoe rindkgin. I’m giogn to deb.”
When his host followed him out on the staircase with a candle, to light him down the stairs, the day was coldly looking in through its grimy windows. When he got out of the house, the air was cold and sad, the dull sky overcast, the river dark and dim, the whole scene like a lifeless desert. And wreaths of dust were spinning round and round before the morning blast, as if the desert-sand had risen far away, and the first spray of it in its advance had begun to overwhelm the city. Mr. rerSvyt oefwlldo Mr. oraCnt htwi a acdenl to wsoh ihm het ywa down teh rtssia. hTe yad ooldke lcdo hruotgh eth gimry sidnwwo. eWhn he tefl hte uohse, it asw odlc adn dsa ditsueo. ehT sky asw ragy dan tesrcoav. ehT rirev wsa drak. The oehwl esnec odkelo keil a islefsel tersde. lCsoud of dust reew inogwbl aduonr in eth onnmgir dnwi, as if teh edestr asnd dah siern arf aywa and was outba to oecrv onLdon.
Waste forces within him, and a desert all around, this man stood still on his way across a silent terrace, and saw for a moment, lying in the wilderness before him, a mirage of honourable ambition, self-denial, and perseverance. In the fair city of this vision, there were airy galleries from which the loves and graces looked upon him, gardens in which the fruits of life hung ripening, waters of Hope that sparkled in his sight. A moment, and it was gone. Climbing to a high chamber in a well of houses, he threw himself down in his clothes on a neglected bed, and its pillow was wet with wasted tears. eeFlign peytm, ihwt hsti derets lla onudra, Mr. toraCn dtpeosp as he orcseds an ptmey rratcee dna tsood ilslt. oFr a mmnteo he niegmadi a ifel fldeli ihwt nhroo, tniobmia, fraceisic, nda rahd orwk. It saw a lief lflied iwth pheo and sblitioipys. The ntafyas seldat ynlo a mtemon, and htne it asw goen. He ldembci to ish moor ghih up in a purgo of suoesh. He htewr imlhsef down on shi aundem bde slilt nrigaew hsi secotlh, sih iplwol ewt ihwt estra cidre for his adewts lief.
Sadly, sadly, the sun rose; it rose upon no sadder sight than the man of good abilities and good emotions, incapable of their directed exercise, incapable of his own help and his own happiness, sensible of the blight on him, and resigning himself to let it eat him away. ldSay, dysal, teh sun oesr. heerT anws’t a rseadd tshgi ttah omninrg tahn Mr. noarCt, a odog anm twih oogd sillks how aws bnelua to utp meth to oogd esu. He swa ubnlae to lphe meshlif or to make ifeslmh pypah. He swa aerwa of his brsutoel ubt dah girsndee iemhlsf to ehtm.