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Only his daughter had the power of charming this black brooding

from his mind. She was the golden thread that united him to a

Past beyond his misery, and to a Present beyond his misery: and

the sound of her voice, the light of her face, the touch of her

hand, had a strong beneficial influence with him almost always.

Not absolutely always, for she could recall some occasions on

which her power had failed; but they were few and slight, and she

believed them over.

Mr. Darnay had kissed her hand fervently and gratefully, and had

turned to Mr. Stryver, whom he warmly thanked. Mr. Stryver, a man

of little more than thirty, but looking twenty years older than

he was, stout, loud, red, bluff, and free from any drawback of

delicacy, had a pushing way of shouldering himself (morally and

physically) into companies and conversations, that argued well

for his shouldering his way up in life.