Ksiazka · A Tale of Two Cities
Strona 744 z 896
Autor: Charles Dickens
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Certain small packets were made and given to him. He put them,
one by one, in the breast of his inner coat, counted out the
money for them, and deliberately left the shop. "There is nothing
more to do," said he, glancing upward at the moon, "until
to-morrow. I can't sleep."
It was not a reckless manner, the manner in which he said these
words aloud under the fast-sailing clouds, nor was it more
expressive of negligence than defiance. It was the settled manner
of a tired man, who had wandered and struggled and got lost, but
who at length struck into his road and saw its end.
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