Холодный дом

Interlopers

           "What’sthisIhear!""Why,it’strue,"returnsoneofthepolicemen."That’swhatitis.Nowmoveonhere,come!""Why,goodgracious,gentlemen,"saysMr.Snagsby,somewhatpromptlybackedaway,"Iwasatthisdoorlastnightbetwixttenandeleveno’clockinconversationwiththeyoungmanwholodgeshere.""Indeed?"returnsthepoliceman."Youwillfindtheyoungmannextdoorthen.Nowmoveonhere,someofyou.""Nothurt,Ihope?"saysMr.Snagsby."Hurt?No.What’stohurthim!"Mr.Snagsby,whollyunabletoanswerthisoranyquestioninhistroubledmind,repairstotheSol’sArmsandfindsMr.Weevlelanguishingoverteaandtoastwithaconsiderableexpressiononhimofexhaustedexcitementandexhaustedtobacco-smoke."AndMr.Guppylikewise!"quothMr.Snagsby."Dear,dear,dear!Whatafatethereseemsinallthis!Andmylit"Mr.Snagsby’spowerofspeechdesertshimintheformationofthewords"mylittlewoman."FortoseethatinjuredfemalewalkintotheSol’sArmsatthathourofthemorningandstandbeforethebeer-engine,withhereyesfixeduponhimlikeanaccusingspirit,strikeshimdumb."Mydear,"saysMr.Snagsbywhenhistongueisloosened,"willyoutakeanything?Alittlenottoputtoofineapointuponitdropofshrub?""No,"saysMrs.Snagsby."Mylove,youknowthesetwogentlemen?""Yes!"saysMrs.Snagsby,andinarigidmanneracknowledgestheirpresence,stillfixingMr.Snagsbywithhereye.ThedevotedMr.Snagsbycannotbearthistreatment.HetakesMrs.Snagsbybythehandandleadsherasidetoanadjacentcask.

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