1. `You remember the place, my father? You remember coming up here?
2. `Then I say yes,' said Stryver: `I won't go up there now, I am not so hot upon it as that comes to; I say yes, and I shall expect you to look in to-night. Good-morning.'
3. `Monseigneur, not yet.'CHAPTER IXThe Gorgon's HeadIT was a heavy mass of building, that chaateau of Monsieur the Marquis, with a large stone court-yard before it, and two stone sweeps of staircase meeting in a stone terrace before the principal door. A stony business altogether, with heavy stone balustrades, and stone urns, and stone flowers, and stone faces of men, and stone heads of lions, in all directions. As if the Gorgon's head had surveyed it, when it was finished, two centuries ago.
4. `They did.'
5. `I am that child, I hope, my father. O my dear, my dear, will you bless me as fervently to-morrow?'
6. `At what hour did he come on board?'
1. The altercation was conducted in a low tone of voice, and terminated in the honest tradesman's kicking off his clay-soiled boots, and lying down at his length on the floor. After taking a timid peep at him lying on his back, with his rusty hands under his head for a pillow, his son lay down too, and fell asleep again.
2. At this second interchange of the christian name, Madame Defarge, still using her toothpick with profound composure, coughed another grain of cough, and raised her eyebrows by the breadth of another line.
3. Mr. Lorry saw that they understood one another, and proceeded.
4. `To-night,' said the man, putting the pipe in his mouth.`Where?'`Here.'
5. `Is it possible?' exclaimed Mr. Lorry.
6. `I replied to the Bank, sir, that as it was considered necessary, by those who know, and who are so kind as to advise me, that I should go to France, and that as I am an orphan and have no friend who could go with me, I should esteem it highly if I might be permitted to place myself, during the journey, under that worthy gentleman's protection. The gentleman had left London, but I think a messenger was sent after him to beg the favour of his waiting for me here.'
1. Sydney Carton looked at his punch and looked at his complacent friend; drank his punch and looked at his complacent friend.
3. `Mat man, pig? And why look there?'`Pardon, Monseigneur; he swung by the chain of the shoe the drag.'
4. Two other passengers, besides the one, were plodding up the hill by the side of the mail. All three were wrapped to the cheek-bones and over the ears, and wore jack-boots. Not one of the three could have said, from anything he saw, what either of the other two was like; and each was hidden under almost as many wrappers from the eyes of the mind, as from the eyes of the body, of his two companions. In those days, travellers were very shy of being confidential on short notice, for anybody on the road might be a robber or in league with robbers. As to the latter, when every posting-house and ale-house could produce somebody in `the Captain's' pay, ranging from the landlord to the lowest stable nondescript, it was the likeliest thing upon the cards. So the guard of the Dover mail thought to himself, that Friday night in November, one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five, lumbering up Shooter's Hill, as he stood on his own particular perch behind the mail, beating his feet, and keeping an eye and a hand on the arm-chest before him, where a loaded blunderbuss lay at the top of six or eight loaded horse-pistols, deposited on a substratum of cutlass.
5. `Oh, botheration!' returned Sydney, with a lighter and more good-humoured laugh, `don't *you be moral!'
6. `Yes, sir. Not much in the habit of such travelling your-self, I think, sir?'
1、 `He has always kept it by him,' said Mr. Lorry, with an anxious look at his friend. `Now, would it not be better that he should let it go?'2、 `No.'3、 `Yes. And if you were shown a flock of birds, unable to fly, and were set upon them to strip them of their feathers for your own advantage, you would set upon the birds of the finest feathers; would you not?'4、 `No, no, no; you are too young, too blooming. It can't be. See what the prisoner is. These are not the hands she knew, this is not the face she knew, this is not a voice she ever heard. No, no. She was--and He was--before the slow years of the North Tower--ages ago. What is your name, my gentle angel?'5、 `Well, well,' said the old clerk; `we all have our various ways of gaining a livelihood. Some of us have damp ways, and some of us have dry ways. Here is the letter. Go along.'
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