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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