Тяжёлые времена

No Way Out

           Bounderby,withacuriousexpressiononit,halfshrewd,halfperplexed,asifhismindweresetuponunravellingsomethingverydifficult;hishatheldtightinhislefthand,whichrestedonhiship;hisrightarm,witharuggedproprietyandforceofaction,veryearnestlyemphasizingwhathesaid:notleastsowhenitalwayspaused,alittlebent,butnotwithdrawn,ashepaused.

           ‘Iwasacquaintedwithallthis,youknow,’saidMr.Bounderby,‘exceptthelastclause,longago.It’sabadjob;that’swhatitis.Youhadbetterhavebeensatisfiedasyouwere,andnothavegotmarried.However,it’stoolatetosaythat.’

           ‘Wasitanunequalmarriage,sir,inpointofyears?’askedMrs.Sparsit.

           ‘Youhearwhatthisladyasks.Wasitanunequalmarriageinpointofyears,thisunluckyjobofyours?’saidMr.Bounderby.

           ‘Note’enso.Iwereone-and-twentymyseln;sheweretwentynighbut.’

           ‘Indeed,sir?’saidMrs.SparsittoherChief,withgreatplacidity.‘Iinferred,fromitsbeingsomiserableamarriage,thatitwasprobablyanunequaloneinpointofyears.’

           Mr.Bounderbylookedveryhardatthegoodladyinaside-longwaythathadanoddsheepishnessaboutit.Hefortifiedhimselfwithalittlemoresherry.

           ‘Well?Whydon’tyougoon?’hethenasked,turningratherirritablyonStephenBlackpool.

           ‘Iha’coomtoaskyo,sir,howIamtoberiddedo’thiswoman.’Stepheninfusedayetdeepergravityintothemixedexpressionofhisattentiveface.Mrs.

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