Олівер Твіст

Chapter 37

           Anothersilencesucceededthisshortdialogue:whichwasagainbrokenbythestranger.

           ‘Ihaveseenyoubefore,Ithink?’saidhe.‘Youweredifferentlydressedatthattime,andIonlypassedyouinthestreet,butIshouldknowyouagain.Youwerebeadlehere,once;wereyounot?’

           ‘Iwas,’saidMr.Bumble,insomesurprise;‘porochialbeadle.

           ‘Justso,’rejoinedtheother,noddinghishead.‘ItwasinthatcharacterIsawyou.Whatareyounow?’

           ‘Masteroftheworkhouse,’rejoinedMr.Bumble,slowlyandimpressively,tocheckanyunduefamiliaritythestrangermightotherwiseassume.‘Masteroftheworkhouse,youngman!’

           ‘Youhavethesameeyetoyourowninterest,thatyoualwayshad,Idoubtnot?’resumedthestranger,lookingkeenlyintoMr.Bumble’seyes,asheraisedtheminastonishmentatthequestion.

           ‘Don’tscrupletoanswerfreely,man.Iknowyouprettywell,yousee.

           ‘Isuppose,amarriedman,’repliedMr.Bumble,shadinghiseyeswithhishand,andsurveyingthestranger,fromheadtofoot,inevidentperplexity,‘isnotmoreaversetoturninganhonestpennywhenhecan,thanasingleone.Porochialofficersarenotsowellpaidthattheycanaffordtorefuseanylittleextrafee,whenitcomestotheminacivilandpropermanner.

           Thestrangersmiled,andnoddedhisheadagain:asmuchtosay,hehadnotmistakenhisman;thenrangthebell.

           ‘Fillthisglassagain,’hesaid,handingMr.Bumble’semptytumblertothelandlord.‘Letitbestrongandhot.

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