Вдалині від божевільного натовпу

VIII. The Malthouse—The Chat—News

           "continuedOakinamoistertone,afterrecoveringfromthestoppageofbreathwhichisoccasionedbypullsatlargemugs.

           "Arightsensibleman,"saidJacob.

           "True,true;itcan’tbegainsaid!"observedabriskyoungmanMarkClarkbyname,agenialandpleasantgentleman,whomtomeetanywhereinyourtravelswastoknow,toknowwastodrinkwith,andtodrinkwithwas,unfortunately,topayfor.

           "Andhere’samouthfulofbreadandbaconthatmis’esshavesent,shepherd.Theciderwillgodownbetterwithabitofvictuals.Don’tyechawquiteclose,shepherd,forIletthebaconfallintheroadoutsideasIwasbringingitalong,andmaybe’tisrathergritty.There,’tisclanedirt;andweallknowwhatthatis,asyousay,andyoubain’taparticularmanwesee,shepherd."

           "True,truenotatall,"saidthefriendlyOak.

           "Don’tletyourteethquitemeet,andyouwon’tfeelthesandinessatall.Ah!’tiswonderfulwhatcanbedonebycontrivance!"

           "Myownmindexactly,neighbour."

           "Ah,he’shisgrandfer’sowngrandson!hisgrandferwerejustsuchaniceunparticularman!"saidthemaltster.

           "Drink,HenryFraydrink,"magnanimouslysaidJanCoggan,apersonwhoheldSaint-Simoniannotionsofshareandsharealikewhereliquorwasconcerned,asthevesselshowedsignsofapproachinghiminitsgradualrevolutionamongthem.

           Havingatthismomentreachedtheendofawistfulgazeintomid-air,Henrydidnotrefuse.

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Roboto Lora
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