Крихітка Дорріт

Chapter 1. Fellow Travellers

           ‘How,thenthescratchingdogsandtheburiedchildrenaccordingtothepictures?’

           Theartisttravellerstruckinagainbeforeananswercouldbegiven.

           ‘Don’tyouknow,’hecoldlyinquiredacrossthetableofhiscompanion,‘thatnonebutsmugglerscomethiswayinthewinterorcanhaveanypossiblebusinessthisway?’

           ‘Holyblue!No;neverheardofit.’

           ‘Soitis,Ibelieve.Andastheyknowthesignsoftheweathertolerablywell,theydon’tgivemuchemploymenttothedogs—whohaveconsequentlydiedoutrather—thoughthishouseofentertainmentisconvenientlysituatedforthemselves.Theiryoungfamilies,Iamtold,theyusuallyleaveathome.Butit’sagrandidea!’criedtheartisttraveller,unexpectedlyrisingintoatoneofenthusiasm.‘It’sasublimeidea.It’sthefinestideaintheworld,andbringstearsintoaman’seyes,byJupiter!’Hethenwentoneatinghisvealwithgreatcomposure.

           Therewasenoughofmockinginconsistencyatthebottomofthisspeechtomakeitratherdiscordant,thoughthemannerwasrefinedandthepersonwell-favoured,andthoughthedepreciatorypartofitwassoskilfullythrownoffastobeverydifficultforonenotperfectlyacquaintedwiththeEnglishlanguagetounderstand,or,evenunderstanding,totakeoffenceat:sosimpleanddispassionatewasitstone.Afterfinishinghisvealinthemidstofsilence,thespeakeragainaddressedhisfriend.

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