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"Such is the fact, certainly," said Defarge. He had had it

conveyed to him, in an accidental touch of his wife's elbow as

she knitted and warbled, that he would do best to answer, but

always with brevity.

"It was to you," said the spy, "that his daughter came; and it

was from your care that his daughter took him, accompanied by a

neat brown monsieur; how is he called?--in a little

wig--Lorry--of the bank of Tellson and Company--over to England."

"Such is the fact," repeated Defarge.

"Very interesting remembrances!" said the spy. "I have known

Doctor Manette and his daughter, in England."

"Yes?" said Defarge.

"You don't hear much about them now?" said the spy.

"No," said Defarge.

"In effect," madame struck in, looking up from her work and her

little song, "we never hear about them. We received the news of

their safe arrival, and perhaps another letter, or perhaps two;

but, since then, they have gradually taken their road in

life--we, ours--and we have held no correspondence."