Крихітка Дорріт

Chapter 18. A Castle in the Air

           ‘Whatdoyoumeanbythis?’

           TheamazementandhorrordepictedintheunfortunateJohn’sface—forhehadratherexpectedtobeembracednext—wereofthatpowerfullyexpressivenaturethatMrDorritwithdrewhishandandmerelyglaredathim.

           ‘Howdareyoudothis?’saidMrDorrit.‘Howdoyoupresumetocomehere?Howdareyouinsultme?’

           ‘Iinsultyou,sir?’criedYoungJohn.‘Oh!’

           ‘Yes,sir,’returnedMrDorrit.‘Insultme.Yourcominghereisanaffront,animpertinence,anaudacity.Youarenotwantedhere.Whosentyouhere?What—ha—theDevildoyoudohere?’

           ‘Ithought,sir,’saidYoungJohn,withaspaleandshockedafaceaseverhadbeenturnedtoMrDorrit’sinhislife—eveninhisCollegelife:‘Ithought,sir,youmightn’tobjecttohavethegoodnesstoacceptabundle—’

           ‘Damnyourbundle,sir!’criedMrDorrit,inirrepressiblerage.‘I—hum—don’tsmoke.’

           ‘Ihumblybegyourpardon,sir.Youusedto.’

           ‘Tellmethatagain,’criedMrDorrit,quitebesidehimself,‘andI’lltakethepokertoyou!’

           JohnChiverybackedtothedoor.

           ‘Stop,sir!’criedMrDorrit.‘Stop!Sitdown.Confoundyousitdown!’

           JohnChiverydroppedintothechairnearestthedoor,andMrDorritwalkedupanddowntheroom;rapidlyatfirst;then,moreslowly.Once,hewenttothewindow,andstoodtherewithhisforeheadagainsttheglass.Allofasudden,heturnedandsaid:

           ‘Whatelsedidyoucomefor,Sir?’

           ‘Nothingelseintheworld,sir.

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