Тяжкі часи

Explosion

           ‘Ihaven’tplayedbackgammon,ma’am,’saidMr.Bounderby,‘sincethattime.’‘No,sir,’saidMrs.Sparsit,soothingly,‘Iamawarethatyouhavenot.IrememberthatMissGradgrindtakesnointerestinthegame.ButIshallbehappy,sir,ifyouwillcondescend.’

           Theyplayednearawindow,openingonthegarden.Itwasafinenight:notmoonlight,butsultryandfragrant.LouisaandMr.Harthousestrolledoutintothegarden,wheretheirvoicescouldbeheardinthestillness,thoughnotwhattheysaid.Mrs.Sparsit,fromherplaceatthebackgammonboard,wasconstantlystraininghereyestopiercetheshadowswithout.‘What’sthematter,ma’am?’saidMr.Bounderby;‘youdon’tseeaFire,doyou?’‘Ohdearno,sir,’returnedMrs.Sparsit,‘Iwasthinkingofthedew.’‘Whathaveyougottodowiththedew,ma’am?’saidMr.Bounderby.‘It’snotmyself,sir,’returnedMrs.Sparsit,‘IamfearfulofMissGradgrind’stakingcold.’‘Shenevertakescold,’saidMr.Bounderby.‘Really,sir?’saidMrs.Sparsit.Andwasaffectedwithacoughinherthroat.

           Whenthetimedrewnearforretiring,Mr.Bounderbytookaglassofwater.‘Oh,sir?’saidMrs.Sparsit.‘Notyoursherrywarm,withlemon-peelandnutmeg?’‘Why,Ihavegotoutofthehabitoftakingitnow,ma’am,’saidMr.Bounderby.‘Themore’sthepity,sir,’returnedMrs.Sparsit;‘youarelosingallyourgoodoldhabits.Cheerup,sir!IfMissGradgrindwillpermitme,Iwilloffertomakeitforyou,asIhaveoftendone.

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