Олівер Твіст

Chapter 12

           Now,theoldgentlemancameinasbriskasneedbe;but,hehadnosoonerraisedhisspectaclesonhisforehead,andthrusthishandsbehindtheskirtsofhisdressing-gowntotakeagoodlonglookatOliver,thanhiscountenanceunderwentaverygreatvarietyofoddcontortions.Oliverlookedverywornandshadowyfromsickness,andmadeanineffectualattempttostandup,outofrespecttohisbenefactor,whichterminatedinhissinkingbackintothechairagain;andthefactis,ifthetruthmustbetold,thatMr.Brownlow’sheart,beinglargeenoughforanysixordinaryoldgentlemenofhumanedisposition,forcedasupplyoftearsintohiseyes,bysomehydraulicprocesswhichwearenotsufficientlyphilosophicaltobeinaconditiontoexplain.

           ‘Poorboy,poorboy!’saidMr.Brownlow,clearinghisthroat.‘I’mratherhoarsethismorning,Mrs.Bedwin.I’mafraidIhavecaughtcold.

           ‘Ihopenot,sir,’saidMrs.Bedwin.‘Everythingyouhavehad,hasbeenwellaired,sir.

           ‘Idon’tknow,Bedwin.Idon’tknow,’saidMr.Brownlow;‘IratherthinkIhadadampnapkinatdinner-timeyesterday;butnevermindthat.Howdoyoufeel,mydear?’

           ‘Veryhappy,sir,’repliedOliver.‘Andverygratefulindeed,sir,foryourgoodnesstome.

           ‘Goodby,’saidMr.Brownlow,stoutly.‘Haveyougivenhimanynourishment,Bedwin?Anyslops,eh?’

           ‘Hehasjusthadabasinofbeautifulstrongbroth,sir,’repliedMrs.

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