his foot.

“I forgot it,” he said.

Mr. Lorry’s eyes were again attracted to his face. Taking note of

the wasted air which clouded the naturally handsome features,

and having the expression of prisoners’ faces fresh in his mind, he

was strongly reminded of that expression.

“And your duties here have drawn to an end, sir?” said Carton,

turning to him.

“Yes. As I was telling you last night when Lucie came in so

unexpectedly, I have at length done all that I can do here. I hoped

to have left them in perfect safety, and then to have quitted Paris. I

have my Leave to Pass. I was ready to go.”

They were both silent.

“Yours is a long life to look back upon, sir?” said Carton,

wistfully.

“I am in my seventy-eighth year.”

“You have been useful all your life; steadily and constantly

occupied; trusted, respected, and looked up to?”

“I have been a man of business, ever since I have been a man.

Indeed, I may say that I was a man of business when a boy.”

“See what a place you fill at seventy-eight. How many people

will miss you when you leave it empty!”

“A solitary old bachelor,” answered Mr. Lorry, shaking his

head. “There is nobody to weep for me.”

“How can you say that! Wouldn’t She weep for you? Wouldn’t

her child?”

“Yes, yes, thank God. I didn’t quite mean what I said.”

“It is a thing to thank God