Олівер Твіст

Chapter 11

           Letthisbealessontoyou,myman,orthelawwillovertakeyouyet.Theboyisdischarged.Cleartheoffice!’

           ‘Dnme!’criedtheoldgentleman,burstingoutwiththeragehehadkeptdownsolong,‘dnme!I’ll

           ‘Cleartheoffice!’saidthemagistrate.‘Officers,doyouhear?

           Cleartheoffice!’

           Themandatewasobeyed;andtheindignantMr.Brownlowwasconveyedout,withthebookinonehand,andthebamboocaneintheother:inaperfectphrenzyofrageanddefiance.Hereachedtheyard;andhispassionvanishedinamoment.LittleOliverTwistlayonhisbackonthepavement,withhisshirtunbuttoned,andhistemplesbathedwithwater;hisfaceadeadlywhite;andacoldtrembleconvulsinghiswholeframe.

           ‘Poorboy,poorboy!’saidMr.Brownlow,bendingoverhim.‘Callacoach,somebody,pray.Directly!’

           Acoachwasobtained,andOliverhavingbeencarefullylaidontheseat,theoldgentlemangotinandsathimselfontheother.

           ‘MayIaccompanyyou?’saidthebook-stallkeeper,lookingin.

           ‘Blessme,yes,mydearsir,’saidMr.Brownlowquickly.‘Iforgotyou.Dear,dear!Ihavethisunhappybookstill!Jumpin.Poorfellow!There’snotimetolose.

           Thebook-stallkeepergotintothecoach;andawaytheydrove.

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