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“So, Mr. Lorry! Men of business may speak to Mr. Darnay now?”
Nobody had made any acknowledgment of Mr. Carton’s part in
the day’s proceedings; nobody had known of it. He was unrobed,
and was none the better for it in appearance.

“If you knew what a conflict goes on in the business mind, when
the business mind is divided between good-natured impulse and
business appearances, you would be amused, Mr. Darnay.”

Mr. Lorry reddened, and said, warmly, “You have mentioned that
before, sir.

We men of business, who serve a House, are not our own masters.
We have to think of the House more than ourselves.” “I know, I
know,” rejoined Mr. Carton, carelessly. “Don’t be nettled, Mr.
Lorry. You are as good as another, I have no doubt: better, I dare
say.” “And indeed, sir,” pursued Mr. Lorry, not minding him, “I
really don’t know what you have to do with the matter. If you’ll
excuse me, as very much your elder, for saying so, I really don’t
know that it is your business.” “Business! Bless you, I have no
business,” said Mr. Carton.

“It is a pity you have not, sir.” “I think so, too.” “If you had,”
pursued Mr. Lorry, “perhaps you would attend to it.” “Lord love
you, no!- I shouldn’t,” said Mr. Carton.

“Well, sir!” cried Mr. Lorry, thoroughly heated by his indifference,
“business is a very good thing, and a very respectable thing. And,
sir, if business imposes its restraints and its silences and
impediments, Mr. Darnay as a young gentleman of generosity
knows how to make allowance for that circumstance. Mr. Darnay,
good night, God bless you, sir! I hope you have been this day
preserved for a prosperous and happy life.- Chair there!”

Perhaps a little angry with himself, as well the barrister, Mr. Lorry
bustled into the chair, and was carried off to Tellson’s. Carton, who
smelt of port wine, and did not appear to be quite sober, laughed
then, and turned to Darnay:
“This is a strange chance that throws you and me together. This
must be a strange night to you, standing alone here with your
counterpart on these street stones?” “I hardly seem yet,” returned
Charles Darnay, “to belong to this world again.” “I don’t wonder
at it; it’s not so long since you were pretty far advanced on your
way to another. You speak faintly.” “I begin to think I am faint.”
“Then why the devil don’t you dine? I dined, myself, while those
numskulls were deliberating which world you should belong to-
this, or some other. Let me show you the nearest tavern to dine
well at.” Drawing his arm through his own, he took him down
Ludgate-hill to Fleetstreet, and so, up a covered way, into a tavern.
Here, they were shown into a little room, where Charles Darnay
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