ou were
right, it never would have done.”
Mr. Lorry was so taken aback, that he looked quite stupidly at
Mr. Stryver shouldering him towards the door, with an
appearance of showering generosity, forbearance, and goodwill,
on his erring head. “Make the best of it; my dear sir,” said Stryver;
“say no more about it; thank you again for allowing me to sound
you; good night!”
Mr. Lorry was out in the night, before he knew where he was.
Mr. Stryver was lying back on his sofa, winking at his ceiling.
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
Chapter XIX
THE FELLOW OF NO DELICACY
f Sydney Carton ever shone anywhere, he certainly never
shone in the house of Doctor Manette. He had been there
often, during a whole year, and had always been the same
moody and morose lounger there. When he cared to talk, he talked
well; but, the cloud of caring for nothing which overshadowed him
with such a fatal darkness, was very rarely pierced by the light
within him.
And yet he did care something for the streets that environed
that house, and for the senseless stones that made their
pavements. Many a night he vaguely and unhappily wandered
there, when wine had brought no transitory gladness to him; many
a dreary daybreak revealed his solitary figure lingering there, and
still lingering there when the first beams of the sun brought into