as?

“A young lady’s walking shoe,” he muttered, without looking

up. “It ought to have been finished long ago. Let it be.”

“But, Doctor Manette. Look at me!”

He obeyed, in the old mechanically submissive manner, without

pausing in his work.

“You know me, my dear friend? Think again. This is not your

proper occupation. Think, dear friend!”

Nothing would induce him to speak more. He looked up, for an

instant at a time, when he was requested to do so; but, no

persuasion would extract a word from him. He worked, and

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worked, and worked, in silence, and words fell on him as they

would have fallen on an echoless wall, or on the air. The only ray

of hope that Mr. Lorry could discover, was, that he sometimes

furtively looked up without being asked. In that, there seemed a

faint expression of curiosity or perplexityas though he were

trying to reconcile some doubts in his mind.

Two things at once impressed themselves on Mr. Lorry, as

important above all others; the first, that this must be kept secret

from Lucie; the second that it must be kept secret from all who

knew him. In conjunction with Miss Pross, he took immediate

steps towards the latter precaution, by giving out that the Doctor

was not well, and required a few days of complete rest. In aid of

the kind deception to be practised o