Олівер Твіст

Chapter 39

           Thedogsatatthebedside:noweyeinghismasterwithawistfullook,andnowprickinghisears,andutteringalowgrowlassomenoiseinthestreet,orinthelowerpartofthehouse,attractedhisattention.Seatedbythewindow,busilyengagedinpatchinganoldwaistcoatwhichformedaportionoftherobber’sordinarydress,wasafemale:sopaleandreducedwithwatchingandprivation,thattherewouldhavebeenconsiderabledifficultyinrecognisingherasthesameNancywhohasalreadyfiguredinthistale,butforthevoiceinwhichsherepliedtoMr.Sikes’squestion.

           ‘Notlonggoneseven,’saidthegirl.‘Howdoyoufeelto-night,Bill?’

           ‘Asweakaswater,’repliedMr.Sikes,withanimprecationonhiseyesandlimbs.‘Here;lendusahand,andletmegetoffthisthunderingbedanyhow.

           IllnesshadnotimprovedMr.Sikes’stemper;for,asthegirlraisedhimupandledhimtoachair,hemutteredvariouscursesonherawkwardnewss,andstruckher.

           ‘Whiningareyou?’saidSikes.‘Come!Don’tstandsnivellingthere.Ifyoucan’tdoanythingbetterthanthat,cutoffaltogether.D’yehearme?’

           ‘Ihearyou,’repliedthegirl,turningherfaceaside,andforcingalaugh.‘Whatfancyhaveyougotinyourheadnow?’

           ‘Oh!you’vethoughtbetterofit,haveyou?’growledSikes,markingthetearwhichtrembledinhereye.‘Allthebetterforyou,youhave.

           ‘Why,youdon’tmeantosay,you’dbeharduponmeto-night,Bill,’saidthegirl,layingherhanduponhisshoulder.

           ‘No!’criedMr.Sikes.

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