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


23

should go to France, and that as I am an orphan and have no friend
who could go with me, I should esteem it highly if I might be
permitted to place myself, during the journey, under that worthy
gentleman’s protection. The gentleman had left London, but I think
a messenger was sent after him to be, the favour of his waiting for
me here.” “I was happy,” said Mr. Lorry, “to be entrusted with the
charge. I shall be more happy to execute it.” “Sir, I thank you
indeed. I thank you very gratefully. It was told me by the Bank that
the gentleman would explain to me the details of the business, and
that I must prepare myself to find them of a surprising nature. I
have done my best to prepare myself, and I naturally have a strong
and eager interest to know what they are.” “Naturally,” said Mr.
Lorry. “Yes-I--” After a pause, he added, again settling the crisp
flaxen wig at the ears, “It is very difficult to begin.” He did not
begin, but, in his indecision, met her glance. The young forehead
lifted itself into that singular expression-but it was pretty and
characteristic, besides being singular-and she raised her hand, as if
with an involuntary action she caught at, or stayed some passing
shadow.

“Are you quite a stranger to me, sir?” “Am I not?” Mr. Lorry
opened his hands, and extended them outwards with an
argumentative smile.

Between the eyebrows and just over the little feminine nose, the
line of which was as delicate and fine as it was possible to be, the
expression deepened itself as she took her seat thoughtfully in the
chair by which she had hitherto remained standing. He watched
her as she mused, and the moment she 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 machine-truly, I am
not much else. I will, with your leave, relate to you, miss, the story
of one of 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 connection our customers. He was a
French gentleman; a scientific gentleman; a man of great
acquirements-a 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
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