"A Tale of Two Cities"
by Charles Dickens

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     They joined hands, and the man sat down on the heap of stones.

     "No dinner?"

     "Nothing but supper now," said the mender of roads, with a hungry face.

     "It is the fashion," growled the man. "I meet no dinner anywhere."

 

     He took out a blackened pipe, filled it, lighted it with flint and steel, pulled at it until it was in a bright glow: then, suddenly held it from him and dropped something into it from between his finger and thumb, that blazed and went out in a puff of smoke.

     "Touch then." It was the turn of the mender of roads to say it this time, after observing these operations. They again joined hands.

     "To-night?" said the mender of roads.

     "To-night," said the man, putting the pipe in his mouth.

 
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