Холодный дом

Stop Him!

           "Ahabitinhimofspeakingtothepoorandofavoidingpatronageorcondescensionorchildishness(whichisthefavouritedevice,manypeopledeemingitquiteasubtletytotalktothemlikelittlespellingbooks)hasputhimongoodtermswiththewomaneasily."Letmelookatyourforehead,"hesays,bendingdown."Iamadoctor.Don’tbeafraid.Iwouldn’thurtyoufortheworld."Heknowsthatbytouchingherwithhisskilfulandaccustomedhandhecansootheheryetmorereadily.Shemakesaslightobjection,saying,"It’snothing";buthehasscarcelylaidhisfingersonthewoundedplacewhensheliftsituptothelight."Aye!Abadbruise,andtheskinsadlybroken.Thismustbeverysore.""Itdoachealittle,sir,"returnsthewomanwithastartedtearuponhercheek."Letmetrytomakeitmorecomfortable.Myhandkerchiefwon’thurtyou.""Oh,dearno,sir,I’msureofthat!"Hecleansestheinjuredplaceanddriesit,andhavingcarefullyexamineditandgentlypresseditwiththepalmofhishand,takesasmallcasefromhispocket,dressesit,andbindsitup.Whileheisthusemployed,hesays,afterlaughingathisestablishingasurgeryinthestreet,"Andsoyourhusbandisabrickmaker?""Howdoyouknowthat,sir?"asksthewoman,astonished."Why,Isupposesofromthecolouroftheclayuponyourbagandonyourdress.AndIknowbrickmakersgoaboutworkingatpieceworkindifferentplaces.AndIamsorrytosayIhaveknownthemcrueltotheirwivestoo."Thewomanhastilyliftsuphereyesasifshewoulddenythatherinjuryisreferabletosuchacause.

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