Вдалині від божевільного натовпу

VIII. The Malthouse—The Chat—News

           "Why,ye’vehardlyhadstrengthofeyeenoughtolookinouryoungmis’ess’sface,soIhear,Joseph?"

           AlllookedatJosephPoorgrasswithpityingreproach.

           "NoI’vehardlylookedatheratall,"simperedJoseph,reducinghisbodysmallerwhilsttalking,apparentlyfromameeksenseofundueprominence."AndwhenIseedher,’twasnothingbutblusheswithme!"

           "Poorfeller,"saidMr.Clark.

           "’Tisacuriousnatureforaman,"saidJanCoggan.

           "Yes,"continuedJosephPoorgrasshisshyness,whichwassopainfulasadefect,fillinghimwithamildcomplacencynowthatitwasregardedasaninterestingstudy."’Twereblush,blush,blushwithmeeveryminuteofthetime,whenshewasspeakingtome."

           "Ibelieveye,JosephPoorgrass,forweallknowyetobeaverybashfulman."

           "’Tisa’awkwardgiftforaman,poorsoul,"saidthemaltster."Andhowlonghaveyehavesufferedfromit,Joseph?"

           "Oh,eversinceIwasaboy.Yesmotherwasconcernedtoherheartaboutityes.But’twasallnought."

           "Didyeevergointotheworldtotryandstopit,JosephPoorgrass?"

           "Ohay,triedallsortso’company.TheytookmetoGreenhillFair,andintoagreatgayjerry-go-nimbleshow,wheretherewerewomen-folkridingroundstandinguponhorses,withhardlyanythingonbuttheirsmocks;butitdidn’tcuremeamorsel.AndthenIwasputerrand-manattheWomen’sSkittleAlleyatthebackoftheTailor’sArmsinCasterbridge.’Twasahorriblesinfulsituation,andaverycuriousplaceforagoodman.

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