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"It's plain enough, I should think, why he may be. It's a dreadful
remembrance. Besides that, his loss of himself grew out of it.
Not knowing how he lost himself, or how he recovered himself, he may
never feel certain of not losing himself again. That alone wouldn't
make the subject pleasant, I should think."

It was a profounder remark than Mr. Lorry had looked for. "True,"
said he, "and fearful to reflect upon. Yet, a doubt lurks in my mind,
Miss Pross, whether it is good for Doctor Manette to have that
suppression always shut up within him. Indeed, it is this doubt and
the uneasiness it sometimes causes me that has led me to our present
confidence."

"Can't be helped," said Miss Pross, shaking her head. "Touch that
string, and he instantly changes for the worse. Better leave it
alone. In short, must leave it alone, like or no like. Sometimes,
he gets up in the dead of the night, and will be heard, by us
overhead there, walking up and down, walking up and down, in his room.
Ladybird has learnt to know then that his mind is walking up and
down, walking up and down, in his old prison. She hurries to him,
and they go on together, walking up and down, walking up and down,
until he is composed. But he never says a word of the true reason of
his restlessness, to her, and she finds it best not to hint at it to him.
In silence they go walking up and down together, walking up and down
together, till her love and company have brought him to himself."

Notwithstanding Miss Pross's denial of her own imagination, there was
a perception of the pain of being monotonously haunted by one sad idea,
in her repetition of the phrase, walking up and down, which testified
to her possessing such a thing.

The corner has been mentioned as a wonderful corner for echoes;
it had begun to echo so resoundingly to the tread of coming feet,
that it seemed as though the very mention of that weary pacing to and
fro had set it going.

"Here they are!" said Miss Pross, rising to break up the conference;
"and now we shall have hundreds of people pretty soon!"

It was such a curious corner in its acoustical properties, such a
peculiar Ear of a place, that as Mr. Lorry stood at the open window,
looking for the father and daughter whose steps he heard, he fancied
they would never approach. Not only would the echoes die away,
as though the steps had gone; but, echoes of other steps that never
came would be heard in their stead, and would die away for good when
they seemed close at hand. However, father and daughter did at last
appear, and Miss Pross was ready at the street door to receive them.

Miss Pross was a pleasant sight, albeit wild, and red, and grim, taking
off her darling's bonnet when she came up-stairs, and touching it up
with the ends of her handkerchief, and blowing the dust off it, and
folding her mantle ready for laying by, and smoothing her rich hair
with as much pride as she could possibly have taken in her own hair

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