"Ah, the unfortunate, miserable people! So oppressed, too--as you say."
"As you say," madame retorted, correcting him, and deftly knitting an extra something into his name that boded him no good.
"Pardon me; certainly it was I who said so, but you naturally think so. Of course."
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"I think?" returned madame, in a high voice. "I and my husband have enough to do to keep this wine-shop open, without thinking. All we think, here, is how to live. That is the subject we think of, and it gives us, from morning to night, enough to think about, without embarrassing our heads concerning others. I think for others? No, no."
The spy, who was there to pick up any crumbs he could find or make, did not allow his baffled state to express itself in his sinister face; but, stood with an air of gossiping gallantry, leaning his elbow on Madame Defarge's little counter, and occasionally sipping his cognac.
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