Олівер Твіст

Chapter 37

           Stripthebishopofhisapron,orthebeadleofhishatandlace;whatarethey?Men.Meremen.Dignity,andevenholinesstoo,sometimes,aremorequestionsofcoatandwaistcoatthansomepeopleimagine.

           Mr.BumlehadmarriedMrs.Corney,andwasmasteroftheworkhouse.Anotherbeadlehadcomeintopower.Onhimthecockedhat,gold-lacedcoat,andstaff,hadallthreedescended.

           ‘Andto-morrowtwomonthsitwasdone!’saidMr.Bumble,withasigh.‘Itseemsaage.

           Mr.Bumblemighthavemeantthathehadconcentratedawholeexistenceofhappinessintotheshortspaceofeightweeks;butthesightherewasavastdealofmeaninginthesigh.

           ‘Isoldmyself,’saidMr.Bumble,pursuingthesametrainofrelection,‘forsixteaspoons,apairofsugar-tongs,andamilk-pot;withasmallquantityofsecond-handfurniture,andtwentypoundinmoney.Iwentveryreasonable.Cheap,dirtcheap!’

           ‘Cheap!’criedashrillvoiceinMr.Bumble’sear:‘youwouldhavebeendearatanyprice;anddearenoughIpaidforyou,Lordaboveknowsthat!’

           Mr.Bumbleturned,andencounteredthefaceofhisinterestingconsort,who,imperfectlycomprehendingthefewwordsshehadoverheardofhiscomplaint,hadhazardedtheforegoingremarkataventure.

           ‘Mrs.Bumble,ma’am!’saidMr.Bumble,withasentimentalsternness.

           ‘Well!’criedthelady.

           ‘Havethegoodnesstolookatme,’saidMr.Bumble,fixinghiseyesuponher.(Ifshestandssuchaeyeasthat,’saidMr.Bumbletohimself,‘shecanstandanything.

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