Тяжёлые времена

Fading Away

           Hewasneithercourtly,norhandsome,norpicturesque,inanyrespect;andyethismannerofacceptingit,andofexpressinghisthankswithoutmorewords,hadagraceinitthatLordChesterfieldcouldnothavetaughthissoninacentury.

           Tomhadsatuponthebed,swingingonelegandsuckinghiswalking-stickwithsufficientunconcern,untilthevisithadattainedthisstage.Seeinghissisterreadytodepart,hegotup,ratherhurriedly,andputinaword.

           ‘Justwaitamoment,Loo!Beforewego,Ishouldliketospeaktohimamoment.Somethingcomesintomyhead.Ifyou’llstepoutonthestairs,Blackpool,I’llmentionit.Nevermindalight,man!’Tomwasremarkablyimpatientofhismovingtowardsthecupboard,togetone.‘Itdon’twantalight.’

           Stephenfollowedhimout,andTomclosedtheroomdoor,andheldthelockinhishand.

           ‘Isay!’hewhispered.‘IthinkIcandoyouagoodturn.Don’taskmewhatitis,becauseitmaynotcometoanything.Butthere’snoharminmytrying.’

           HisbreathfelllikeaflameoffireonStephen’sear,itwassohot.

           ‘ThatwasourlightporterattheBank,’saidTom,‘whobroughtyouthemessageto-night.Icallhimourlightporter,becauseIbelongtotheBanktoo.’

           Stephenthought,‘Whatahurryheisin!’Hespokesoconfusedly.

           ‘Well!’saidTom.‘Nowlookhere!Whenareyouoff?’

           ‘T’day’sMonday,’repliedStephen,considering.‘Why,sir,FridayorSaturday,nigh’bout.’

           ‘FridayorSaturday,’saidTom.

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