Олівер Твіст

Chapter 49

           ‘Whathasthenametodowithit?’askedtheother,aftercontemplating,halfinsilence,andhalfindoggedwonder,theagitationofhiscompanion.‘Whatisthenametome?’

           ‘Nothing,’repliedMr.Brownlow,‘nothingtoyou.ButitwasHERS,andevenatthisdistanceoftimebringsbacktome,anoldman,theglowandthrillwhichIoncefelt,onlytohearitrepeatedbyastranger.Iamverygladyouhavechangeditveryvery.

           ‘Thisisallmightyfine,’saidMonks(toretainhisassumeddesignation)afteralongsilence,duringwhichhehadjerkedhimselfinsullendefiancetoandfro,andMr.Brownlowhadsat,shadinghisfacewithhishand.‘Butwhatdoyouwantwithme?’

           ‘Youhaveabrother,’saidMr.Brownlow,rousinghimself:‘abrother,thewhisperofwhosenameinyourearwhenIcamebehindyouinthestreet,was,initself,almostenoughtomakeyouaccompanymehither,inwonderandalarm.

           ‘Ihavenobrother,’repliedMonks.‘YouknowIwasanonlychild.Whydoyoutalktomeofbrothers?Youknowthat,aswellasI.

           ‘AttendtowhatIdoknow,andyoumaynot,’saidMr.Brownlow.‘Ishallinterestyoubyandby.Iknowthatofthewretchedmarriage,intowhichfamilypride,andthemostsordidandnarrowestofallambition,forcedyourunhappyfatherwhenamereboy,youwerethesoleandmostunnaturalissue.

           ‘Idon’tcareforhardnames,’interruptedMonkswithajeeringlaugh.‘Youknowthefact,andthat’senoughforme.

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