e raised her eyes

again, went on:

“In your adopted country, I presume, I cannot do better than

address you as a young English lady, Miss Manette?”

“If you please, sir.”

“Miss Manette, I am a man of business. I have a business

charge to acquit myself of. In your reception of it, don’t heed me

any more than if I was a speaking machinetruly, I am not much

else. I will, with your leave, relate to you, miss, the story of one of

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

our customers.”

“Story!”

He seemed wilfully to mistake the word she had repeated, when

he added, in a hurry, “Yes, customers; in the banking business we

usually call our connexion our customers. He was a French

gentleman; a scientific gentleman; a man of great acquirementsa

Doctor.”

“Not of Beauvais?”

“Why, yes, of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, your father,

the gentleman was of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, your

father, the gentleman was of repute in Paris. I had the honour of

knowing him there. Our relations were business relations, but

confidential. I was at that time in our French House, and had

beenoh! twenty years.”

“At that timeI may ask, at what time, sir?”

“I speak, miss, of twenty years ago. He marriedan English