Холодный дом

Our Dear Brother

           "Supposeyoudo!"Whilesheisgone,thesurgeonabandonshishopelessinvestigationandcoversitssubjectwiththepatchworkcounterpane.Mr.Krookandheinterchangeawordortwo.Mr.Tulkinghornsaysnothing,butstands,ever,neartheoldportmanteau.Mr.Snagsbyarriveshastilyinhisgreycoatandhisblacksleeves."Dearme,dearme,"hesays;"andithascometothis,hasit!Blessmysoul!""Canyougivethepersonofthehouseanyinformationaboutthisunfortunatecreature,Snagsby?"inquiresMr.Tulkinghorn."Hewasinarrearswithhisrent,itseems.Andhemustbeburied,youknow.""Well,sir,"saysMr.Snagsby,coughinghisapologeticcoughbehindhishand,"Ireallydon’tknowwhatadviceIcouldoffer,exceptsendingforthebeadle.""Idon’tspeakofadvice,"returnsMr.Tulkinghorn."Icouldadvise""Noonebetter,sir,Iamsure,"saysMr.Snagsby,withhisdeferentialcough."Ispeakofaffordingsomecluetohisconnexions,ortowherehecamefrom,ortoanythingconcerninghim.""Iassureyou,sir,"saysMr.Snagsbyafterprefacinghisreplywithhiscoughofgeneralpropitiation,"thatInomoreknowwherehecamefromthanIknow""Wherehehasgoneto,perhaps,"suggeststhesurgeontohelphimout.Apause.Mr.Tulkinghornlookingatthelaw-stationer.Mr.Krook,withhismouthopen,lookingforsomebodytospeaknext."Astohisconnexions,sir,"saysMr.

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Roboto Lora
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