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PinkMonkey.com Digital Library - A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens


121

than I should be annoyed by a man’s opinion of a picture of mine,
who had no eye for pictures: or of a piece of music of mine, who
had no ear for music.” Sydney Carton drank the punch at a great
rate; drank it by bumpers, looking at his friend.

“Now you know all about it, Syd,” said Mr. Stryver. “I don’t care
about fortune: she is a charming creature, and I have made up my
mind to please myself: on the whole, I think I can afford to please
myself. She will have in me a man already pretty well off, and a
rapidly rising man, and a man of some distinction: it is a piece of
good fortune for her, but she is worthy of good fortune. Are you
astonished?” Carton, still drinking the punch, rejoined, “Why
should I be astonished?” “You approve?” Carton, still drinking the
punch, rejoined, “Why should I not approve?”

“Well!” said his friend Stryver, “you take it more easily than I
fancied you would, and are less mercenary on my behalf than I
thought you would be; though, to be sure, you know well enough
by this time that your ancient chum is a man of a pretty strong will.
Yes, Sydney, I have had enough of this style of life, with no other
as a change from it; I feel that it is a pleasant thing for a man to
have a home when he feels inclined to go to it (when he doesn’t, he
can stay away), and I feel that Miss Manette will tell well in any
station, and will always do me credit. So I have made up my mind.
And now, Sydney, old boy, I want to say a word to you about your
prospects. You are in a bad way, you know; you really are in a bad
way. You don’t know the value of money, you live hard, you’ll
knock up one of these days, and be ill and poor; you really ought
to think about a nurse.” The prosperous patronage with which he
said it, made him look twice as big as he was, and four times as
offensive.

“Now, let me recommend you,” pursued Stryver, “to look it in the
face. I have looked it in the face, in my different way; look it in the
face, you, in your different way. Marry. Provide somebody to take
care of you. Never mind your having no enjoyment of women’s
society, nor understanding of it, nor tact for it. Find out somebody.
Find out some respectable woman with a little property-somebody
in the landlady way, or lodging-letting way-and marry her,
against a rainy day.

That’s the kind of thing for you. Now think of it, Sydney.” “I’ll
think of it,” said Sydney.
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