Мидлмарч

Chapter 71

           Hawley,standingwithhisbacktothestreet,wasfixingatimeforlookingatthegrayandseeingittried,whenahorsemanpassedslowlyby.

           "Bulstrode!"saidtwoorthreevoicesatonceinalowtone,oneofthem,whichwasthedraper’s,respectfullyprefixingthe"Mr.;"butnobodyhavingmoreintentioninthisinterjecturalnamingthaniftheyhadsaid"theRiverstoncoach"whenthatvehicleappearedinthedistance.Mr.HawleygaveacarelessglanceroundatBulstrode’sback,butasBambridge’seyesfollowedithemadeasarcasticgrimace.

           "Byjingo!thatremindsme,"hebegan,loweringhisvoicealittle,"IpickedupsomethingelseatBilkleybesidesyourgig-horse,Mr.Hawley.IpickedupafinestoryaboutBulstrode.Doyouknowhowhecamebyhisfortune?Anygentlemanwantingabitofcuriousinformation,Icangiveithimfreeofexpense.Ifeverybodygottheirdeserts,BulstrodemighthavehadtosayhisprayersatBotanyBay."

           "Whatdoyoumean?"saidMr.Hawley,thrustinghishandsintohispockets,andpushingalittleforwardunderthearchway.IfBulstrodeshouldturnouttobearascal,FrankHawleyhadapropheticsoul.

           "IhaditfromapartywhowasanoldchumofBulstrode’s.I’lltellyouwhereIfirstpickedhimup,"saidBambridge,withasuddengestureofhisfore-finger."HewasatLarcher’ssale,butIknewnothingofhimthenheslippedthroughmyfingerswasafterBulstrode,nodoubt.

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