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On a night in mid-July, one thousand seven hundred and

eighty-nine, Mr. Lorry came in late, from Tellson's, and sat

himself down by Lucie and her husband in the dark window. It was

a hot, wild night, and they were all three reminded of the old

Sunday night when they had looked at the lightning from the same

place.

"I began to think," said Mr. Lorry, pushing his brown wig back,

"that I should have to pass the night at Tellson's. We have been

so full of business all day, that we have not known what to do

first, or which way to turn. There is such an uneasiness in

Paris, that we have actually a run of confidence upon us! Our

customers over there, seem not to be able to confide their

property to us fast enough. There is positively a mania among

some of them for sending it to England."

"That has a bad look," said Darnay--