United States or Niger ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"If you remember," said Carton, dictating, "the words that passed between us long ago, you will comprehend this when you see it. I am thankful that the time has come when I can prove them." Carton's hand was withdrawn from his breast, and slowly and softly moved down the writer's face.
"Don't take any more," muttered the woman, half conscious. "There's something wrong with it, Haddon." I looked more closely at the face in the half-darkness. It was Haddon himself. "I knew he'd come back when the craving for the drug became intense enough," remarked Kennedy. Carton looked at Kennedy in amazement.
"Miss Kendall will take good care of her." As we descended the stairs, we could see Carton at the foot. A patrol wagon had been backed up to the curb in front and the inmates of the place were being taken out, protesting violently at being detained.
The little sitting-room was bright with lamp and fire, and Farrell, perceiving that they were no longer to be alone, and momentarily expecting Bridget's entrance, put impatience aside and began to talk of his drive from Carton. 'The wind on Dunmail Raise was appalling, and the lamps got so be-snowed, we had to be constantly clearing them.
"So, they are on to us," he said to himself. "But how was it found out? That's what I'd like to know. I have been very careful. I must see Carton at once." A short walk took him to a billiard room not far from Broadway. A young man of twenty five, with a slight mustache, and a thin, dark face, was selecting a cue. "Ah, Jasper!" he said. "Come at last. Let us have a game of pool." "Not just yet.
"Oh, you will let me hold your hand?" "Hush! Yes, my poor sister, to the last." That afternoon a coach going out of Paris drove up to the Barrier. "Papers!" demanded the guard. The papers are handed out and read. "Alexandre Manette, Lucie Manette, her child. Jarvis Lorry, banker, English. Sydney Carton, advocate, English. Which is he?" He lies here, in a corner, apparently in a swoon.
Every day. What a barber! You have seen him at work?" "Never." "Go and see him when he has a good batch. Less than two pipes. Word of honour!" As the grinning little man held out the pipe he was smoking, to explain how he timed the executioner, Carton was so sensible of a rising desire to strike the life out of him, that he turned away.
Where my mother oh, where is mother?" she cried hysterically, sitting bolt upright and staring at us without seeing us. Kennedy passed the broad palm of his hand over her forehead and murmured, "There, there, you are all right now." Then he added to us: "I did not send for her mother because I wasn't sure that we might find her even as well as this. Will someone find Carton?
Carton did not say it in so many words, but one could not help gathering that rather than seem to be pursuing a possible rival and using his official position in order to do it, he was not considering Langhorne in any other light than as a mere actor in the drama between himself and Dorgan and Murtha. "Now," he concluded, "the point of the whole thing is this, Miss Ashton.
"I neither want any thanks, nor merit any," was the careless rejoinder. "It was nothing to do, in the first place; and I don't know why I did it, in the second. Mr. Darnay, let me ask you a question." "Willingly, and a small return for your good offices." "Do you think I particularly like you?" "Really, Mr. Carton," returned the other, oddly disconcerted, "I have not asked myself the question."
Word Of The Day