Холодный дом

A Turn of the Screw

           Bagnetnowarrives,fresh-colouredandbright,inGeorge’sShootingGallery."Well,George,oldfellow,"saysshe,"andhowdoYOUdo,thissunshinymorning?"Givinghimafriendlyshakeofthehand,Mrs.Bagnetdrawsalongbreathafterherwalkandsitsdowntoenjoyarest.Havingafaculty,maturedonthetopsofbaggage-waggonsandinothersuchpositions,ofrestingeasilyanywhere,sheperchesonaroughbench,untiesherbonnet-strings,pushesbackherbonnet,crossesherarms,andlooksperfectlycomfortable.Mr.BagnetinthemeantimehasshakenhandswithhisoldcomradeandwithPhil,onwhomMrs.Bagnetlikewisebestowsagood-humourednodandsmile."Now,George,"saidMrs.Bagnetbriskly,"hereweare,Lignumandmyself"sheoftenspeaksofherhusbandbythisappellation,onaccount,asitissupposed,ofLignumVitaehavingbeenhisoldregimentalnicknamewhentheyfirstbecameacquainted,incomplimenttotheextremehardnessandtoughnessofhisphysiognomy"justlookedin,wehave,tomakeitallcorrectasusualaboutthatsecurity.Givehimthenewbilltosign,George,andhe’llsignitlikeaman.""Iwascomingtoyouthismorning,"observesthetrooperreluctantly."Yes,wethoughtyou’dcometousthismorning,butweturnedoutearlyandleftWoolwich,thebestofboys,tomindhissistersandcametoyouinsteadasyousee!ForLignum,he’stiedsoclosenow,andgetssolittleexercise,thatawalkdoeshimgood.Butwhat’sthematter,George?"asksMrs.Bagnet,stoppinginhercheerfultalk."Youdon’tlookyourself.

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