Крихітка Дорріт

Chapter 11. Let Loose

           

           ‘Tothedevilwiththisplainthathasnoend!Tothedevilwiththesestonesthatcutlikeknives!Tothedevilwiththisdismaldarkness,wrappingitselfaboutonewithachill!Ihateyou!’

           Andhewouldhavevisitedhishatreduponitallwiththescowlhethrewabouthim,ifhecould.Hetrudgedalittlefurther;andlookingintothedistancebeforehim,stoppedagain.

           ‘I,hungry,thirsty,weary.You,imbeciles,wherethelightsareyonder,eatinganddrinking,andwarmingyourselvesatfires!IwishIhadthesackingofyourtown;Iwouldrepayyou,mychildren!’

           Buttheteethhesetatthetown,andthehandheshookatthetown,broughtthetownnonearer;andthemanwasyethungrier,andthirstier,andwearier,whenhisfeetwereonitsjaggedpavement,andhestoodlookingabouthim.

           Therewasthehotelwithitsgateway,anditssavourysmellofcooking;therewasthecafewithitsbrightwindows,anditsrattlingofdominoes;therewasthedyer’swithitsstripsofredclothonthedoorposts;therewasthesilversmith’swithitsearrings,anditsofferingsforaltars;therewasthetobaccodealer’swithitslivelygroupofsoldiercustomerscomingoutpipeinmouth;therewerethebadodoursofthetown,andtherainandtherefuseinthekennels,andthefaintlampsslungacrosstheroad,andthehugeDiligence,anditsmountainofluggage,anditssixgreyhorseswiththeirtailstiedup,gettingunderweighatthecoachoffice.

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