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broken up. The English customer paid for what he had had,
perplexedly counted his change, and asked, as a stranger, to be
directed towards the National Palace. Madame Defarge took him
to the door, and put her arm on his, in pointing out the road. The
English customer was not without his reflections then, that it might
be a good deed to seize that arm, lift it, and strike under it sharp
and deep.

But, he went his way, and was soon swallowed up in the shadow
of the prison wall. At the appointed hour, he emerged from it to
present himself in Mr. Lorry’s room again, where he found the old
gentleman walking to and fro in restless anxiety. He said he had
been with Lucie until just now, and had only left her for a few
minutes, to come and keep his appointment. Her father had not
been seen, since he quitted the banking-house towards four o’clock.
She had some faint hopes that his mediation might save Charles,
but they were very slight. He had been more than five hours gone:
where could he be? Mr. Lorry waited until ten; but, Doctor Manette
not returning, and he being unwilling to leave Lucie any longer, it
was arranged that he should go back to her, and come to the
banking-house again at midnight. In the meanwhile, Carton would
wait alone by the fire for the Doctor.

He waited and waited, and the clock struck twelve; but Doctor
Manette did not come back. Mr. Lorry returned, and found no
tidings of him, and brought none. Where could he be? They were
discussing this question, and were almost building up some weak
structure of hope on his prolonged absence, when they heard him
on the stairs.

The instant he entered the room, it was plain that all was lost.
Whether he had really been to any one, or whether he had been an
that time traversing the streets, was never known. As he stood
staring at them, they asked him no question, for his face told them

“I cannot find it,” said he, “and I must have it. Where is it?” His
head and throat were bare, and, as he spoke with a helpless look
straying all around, he took his coat off, and let it drop on the floor.
“Where is my bench? I have been looking everywhere for my
bench, and I can’t find it. What have they done with my work?
Time presses: I must finish those shoes.” They looked at one
another, and their hearts died within them.

“Come, come!” said he, in a whimpering miserable way; “Let me
get to work. Give me my work.” Receiving no answer, he tore his
hair, and beat his feet upon the ground, like a distracted child.
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