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ONE Of the first considerations which arose in the business mind
of Mr. Lorry when business hours came round, was this:- that he
had no right to imperil Tellson’s by sheltering the wife of an
emigrant prisoner under the Bank roof. His own possessions,
safety, life, he would have hazarded for Lucie and her child,
without a moment’s demur; but the great trust he held was not his
own, and as to that business charge he was a strict man of business.
At first, his mind reverted to Defarge, and he thought of finding
out the wineshop again and taking counsel with its master in
reference to the safest dwellingplace in the distracted state of the
city. But, the same consideration that suggested him, repudiated
him; he lived in the most violent Quarter, and doubtless was
influential there, and deep in its dangerous workings.

Noon coming, and the Doctor not returning, and every minute’s
delay tending to compromise Tellson’s, Mr. Lorry advised with
Lucie. She said that her father had spoken of hiring a lodging for a
short term, in that Quarter, near the Bankinghouse. As there was
no business objection to this, and as he foresaw that even if it were
all well with Charles, and he were to be released, he could not
hope to leave the city, Mr. Lorry went out in quest of such a
lodging, and found a suitable one, high up in a removed by-street
where the closed blinds in all the other windows of a high
melancholy square of buildings marked deserted homes.

To this lodging he at once removed Lucie and her child, and Miss
Pross: giving them what comfort he could, and much more than he
had himself. He left Jerry with them, as a figure to fill a doorway
that would bear considerable knocking on the head, and returned
to his own occupations. A disturbed and doleful mind he brought
to bear upon them, and slowly and heavily the day lagged on with

It wore itself out, and wore him out with it, until the Bank closed.
He was again alone in his room of the previous night, considering
what to do next, when be heard a foot upon the stair. In a few
moments, a man stood in his presence, who, with a keenly
observant look at him, addressed him by his name.

“Your servant,” said Mr. Lorry. “Do you know me?” He was a
strongly made man with dark curling hair, from forty-five to fifty
years of age. For answer he repeated, without any change of
emphasis, the words:
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