A TALE OF TWO CITIES
Reading edition
TWENTY-FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS BY FRED BARNARD
Miss Manette curtsied to Mr. Lorry, with a pretty desire to convey to him that she felt how much older and wiser he was than she. He made her another bow—Book 1, Chap. iv.
The wine shop—Book 1, chap. v.
The shoemaker—Book 1, chap. vi.
Messrs. Cruncher and Son—Book 2, chap. i.
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—Book 2, chap. vi.
The lion and the jackal—Book 2, chap. v.
He stooped a little, and with his tattered blue cap pointed under the carriage. All his fellows stooped to look under the carriage—Book 2, chap. viii.
Drive him fast from the tomb. This from Jacques—Book 2, chap. ix.
"Think now and then that there is a man who would give his life to keep a life you love beside you"—Book 2, chap. xiii.
"It is frightful, messieurs. How can the women and children draw water? Who can gossip of an evening under that shadow?"—Book 2, chap. xv.
Saint Antoine—Book 2, chap. xvi.
"Still, the doctor, with shaded forehead, beat his foot nervously on the ground"—Book 2, chap. xix.
Dragged, and struck at, and stifled by the bunches of grass and straw that were thrust into his face by hundreds of hands—Book 2, chap. xxii.
Among the talkers was Stryver, of the King's Bench Bar . . . broaching to monseigneur his devices for blowing the people up, and exterminating them from the face of the earth.—Book 2, chap. xxiv.
Some registers were lying open on a desk and an officer of a coarse dark aspect presided over these—Book 3, chap. i.
The Grindstone—Book 3, chap. ii.
The Carmagnole—Book 3, chap. vi.
Here Mr. Lorry became aware, from where he sat, of a most remarkable goblin shadow on the wall—Book 3, chap. x.
Twice he put his hand to the wound in his breast, and with his forefinger drew a cross in the air—Book 3, chap. x.
The trial of Evrémonde—Book 3, chap. ix.
As he was drawn away, his wife released him, and stood looking after him with her hands touching one another in the attitude of prayer—Book 3, chap. xi.
His head and throat were bare, and, as he spoke with helpless look straying all round, he took his coat off, and let it drop on the floor—Book 3, chap. xii.
"You might, from your appearance, be the wife of Lucifer," said Miss Pross in her breathing. "Nevertheless you shall not get the better of me. I am an Englishwoman"—Book 3, chap. xiv.
The third tumbrel—Book 3, chap. xv.
