Холодный дом

Stop Him!

           Itisthefigureofayouthwhosefaceishollowandwhoseeyeshaveanemaciatedglare.Heissointentongettingalongunseenthateventheapparitionofastrangerinwholegarmentsdoesnottempthimtolookback.Heshadeshisfacewithhisraggedelbowashepassesontheothersideoftheway,andgoesshrinkingandcreepingonwithhisanxioushandbeforehimandhisshapelessclotheshanginginshreds.Clothesmadeforwhatpurpose,orofwhatmaterial,itwouldbeimpossibletosay.Theylook,incolourandinsubstance,likeabundleofrankleavesofswampygrowththatrottedlongago.AllanWoodcourtpausestolookafterhimandnoteallthis,withashadowybeliefthathehasseentheboybefore.Hecannotrecallhoworwhere,butthereissomeassociationinhismindwithsuchaform.Heimaginesthathemusthaveseenitinsomehospitalorrefuge,still,cannotmakeoutwhyitcomeswithanyspecialforceonhisremembrance.HeisgraduallyemergingfromTom-all-Alone’sinthemorninglight,thinkingaboutit,whenhehearsrunningfeetbehindhim,andlookinground,seestheboyscouringtowardshimatgreatspeed,followedbythewoman."Stophim,stophim!"criesthewoman,almostbreathless."Stophim,sir!"Hedartsacrosstheroadintotheboy’spath,buttheboyisquickerthanhe,makesacurve,ducks,divesunderhishands,comesuphalf-a-dozenyardsbeyondhim,andscoursawayagain.

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Roboto Lora
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