Холодный дом

Closing in

           Anexcitedimaginationmightsupposethattherewassomethinginthemsoterrificastodrivetherestofthecomposition,notonlytheattendantbig-leggedboys,butthecloudsandflowersandpillarstooinshort,theverybodyandsoulofAllegory,andallthebrainsithasstarkmad.IthappenssurelythateveryonewhocomesintothedarkenedroomandlooksatthesethingslooksupattheRomanandthatheisinvestedinalleyeswithmysteryandawe,asifhewereaparalyseddumbwitness.Soitshallhappensurely,throughmanyyearstocome,thatghostlystoriesshallbetoldofthestainuponthefloor,soeasytobecovered,sohardtobegotout,andthattheRoman,pointingfromtheceilingshallpoint,solongasdustanddampandspiderssparehim,withfargreatersignificancethanheeverhadinMr.Tulkinghorn’stime,andwithadeadlymeaning.ForMr.Tulkinghorn’stimeisoverforevermore,andtheRomanpointedatthemurderoushandupliftedagainsthislife,andpointedhelplesslyathim,fromnighttomorning,lyingfacedownwardonthefloor,shotthroughtheheart.

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