Олівер Твіст

Chapter 1

           Shewasfoundlyinginthestreet. Shehadwalkedsomedistance,forhershoeswereworntopieces; butwhereshecamefrom,orwhereshewasgoingto,nobodyknows.’ 

           Thesurgeonleanedoverthebody,andraisedthelefthand. ‘Theoldstory,’hesaid,shakinghishead: ‘nowedding-ring,Isee. Ah!Good-night!’ 

           Themedicalgentlemanwalkedawaytodinner; andthenurse,havingoncemoreappliedherselftothegreenbottle, satdownonalowchairbeforethefire, andproceededtodresstheinfant. 

           Whatanexcellentexampleofthepowerofdress,youngOliverTwistwas! Wrappedintheblanketwhichhadhithertoformedhisonlycovering, hemighthavebeenthechildofanoblemanorabeggar; itwouldhavebeenhardforthehaughtieststrangertohaveassignedhimhisproperstationinsociety. Butnowthathewasenvelopedintheoldcalicorobes whichhadgrownyellowinthesameservice, hewasbadgedandticketed,andfellintohisplaceatonce aparishchildtheorphanofaworkhousethehumble,half-starveddrudge tobecuffedandbuffetedthroughtheworlddespisedbyall,andpitiedbynone. 

           Olivercriedlustily. Ifhecouldhaveknownthathewasanorphan,lefttothetendermerciesofchurch-wardensandoverseers, perhapshewouldhavecriedthelouder. 

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Roboto Lora
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