travelling, a disorganised country, a city that may not be even safe

for you.”

“My dear Charles,” said Mr. Lorry, with cheerful confidence,

“you touch some of the reasons for my going: not for my staying

away. It is safe enough for me; nobody will care to interfere with

an old fellow of hard upon fourscore when there are so many

people there much better worth interfering with. As to its being a

disorganised city, if it were not a disorganised city there would be

no occasion to send somebody from our House here to our House

there, who knows the city and the business, of old, and is in

Tellson’s confidence. As to the uncertain travelling, the long

journey, and the winter weather, if I were not prepared to submit

myself to a few inconveniences for the sake of Tellson’s, after all

these years, who ought to be?”

“I wish I were going myself,” said Charles Darnay, somewhat

restlessly, and like one thinking aloud.

“Indeed! You are a pretty fellow to object and advise!”

exclaimed Mr. Lorry. “You wish you were going yourself? And you

a Frenchman born? You are a wise counsellor.”

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“My dear Mr. Lorry, it is because I am a Frenchman born, that

the thought (which I did not mean to utter here, however) has

passed through my mind often. One cannot help thinking, having

had some sympathy for the mise