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


85

changes for the worse. Better leave it alone. In short, must leave it
alone, like or no like. Sometimes, he gets up in the dead of the
night, and will be heard, by us overhead there, walking up and
down, walking up and down, in his room. Ladybird has learnt to
know then that his mind is walking up and down, walking up and
down, in his old prison. She hurries to him, and they go on
together, walking up and down, walking up and down, until he is
composed. But he never says a word of the true reason of his
restlessness, to her, and she finds it best not to hint at it to him. In
silence they go walking up and down together, walking up and
down together, till her love and company have brought him to
himself.” Notwithstanding Miss Pross’s denial of her own
imagination, there was a perception of the pain of being
monotonously haunted by one sad idea, in her repetition of the
phrase, walking up and down, which testified to her possessing
such a thing.

The corner has been mentioned as a wonderful corner for echoes; it
had begun to echo so resoundingly to the tread of coming feet, that
it seemed as though the very mention of that weary pacing to and
fro had set it going.

“Here they are!” said Miss Pross, rising to break up the conference;
“and now we shall have hundreds of people pretty soon!” It was
such a curious corner in its acoustical properties, such a peculiar
Ear of a place, that as Mr. Lorry stood at the open window, looking
for the father and daughter whose steps he heard, he fancied they
would never approach. Not only would the echoes die away, as
though the steps had gone; but, echoes of other steps that never
came would be heard in their stead, and would die away for good
when they seemed close at hand. However, father and daughter
did at last appear, and Miss Pross was ready at the street door to
receive them.

Miss Pross was a pleasant sight, albeit wild, and red, and grim,
taking off her darling’s bonnet when she came up-stairs, and
touching it up with the ends of her handkerchief, and blowing the
dust off it, and folding her mantle ready for laying by, and
smoothing her rich hair with as much pride as she could possibly
have taken in her own hair if she had been the vainest and
handsomest of women. Her darling was a pleasant sight too,
embracing her and thanking her, and protesting against her taking
so much trouble for her-which last she only dared to do playfully,
or Miss Pross, sorely hurt, would have retired to her own chamber
and cried. The Doctor was a pleasant sight too, looking on at them,
and telling Miss Pross how she spoilt Lucie, in accents and with
eyes that had as much spoiling in them as Miss Pross had, and
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