Тяжёлые времена

Gunpowder

           Thereshesitsinhiscompanylikeastone,insteadofmakingherselfagreeableandgettingiteasily.Idon’tknowwhatyoumaycallthis,butIcallitunnaturalconduct.’

           Therewasapieceofornamentalwaterimmediatelybelowtheparapet,ontheotherside,intowhichMr.JamesHarthousehadaverystronginclinationtopitchMr.ThomasGradgrindjunior,astheinjuredmenofCoketownthreatenedtopitchtheirpropertyintotheAtlantic.Buthepreservedhiseasyattitude;andnothingmoresolidwentoverthestonebalustradesthantheaccumulatedrosebudsnowfloatingabout,alittlesurface-island.

           ‘MydearTom,’saidHarthouse,‘letmetrytobeyourbanker.’

           ‘ForGod’ssake,’repliedTom,suddenly,‘don’ttalkaboutbankers!’Andverywhitehelooked,incontrastwiththeroses.Verywhite.

           Mr.Harthouse,asathoroughlywell-bredman,accustomedtothebestsociety,wasnottobesurprisedhecouldassoonhavebeenaffectedbutheraisedhiseyelidsalittlemore,asiftheywereliftedbyafeebletouchofwonder.Albeititwasasmuchagainstthepreceptsofhisschooltowonder,asitwasagainstthedoctrinesoftheGradgrindCollege.

           ‘Whatisthepresentneed,Tom?Threefigures?Outwiththem.Saywhattheyare.’

           ‘Mr.Harthouse,’returnedTom,nowactuallycrying;andhistearswerebetterthanhisinjuries,howeverpitifulafigurehemade:‘it’stoolate;themoneyisofnousetomeatpresent.Ishouldhavehaditbeforetobeofusetome.ButIamverymuchobligedtoyou;you’reatruefriend.

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