his mind. Of late, the neglected bed in the Temple Court had

known him more scantily than ever; and often when he had

thrown himself upon it no longer than a few minutes, he had got

up again, and haunted that neighbourhood.

On a day in August, when Mr. Stryver (after notifying to his

jackal that “he had thought better of that marrying matter”) had

carried his delicacy into Devonshire, and when the sight and scent

of flowers in the City streets had some waifs of goodness in them

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

for the worst, of health for the sickliest, and of youth for the oldest,

Sydney’s feet still trod those stones. From being irresolute and

purposeless, his feet became animated by an intention, and, in the

working out of that intention, they took him to the Doctor’s door.

He was shown upstairs, and found Lucie at her work, alone.

She had never been quite at her ease with him, and received him

with some little embarrassment as he seated himself near her

table. But, looking up at his face in the interchange of the first few

common-places, she observed a change in it.

“I fear you are not well, Mr. Carton!”

“No. But the life I lead, Miss Manette, is not conducive to

health. What is to be expected of, or by, such profligates?”

“Is it notforgive me; I had begun the question on my lipsa

pity to live no better life?”