Холодний дім

The Law-Writer

           Theoldmanrisesandcomesforward,withanotherblot-headedcandleinhishand."Prayisyourlodgerwithin?""Maleorfemale,sir?"saysMr.Krook."Male.Thepersonwhodoescopying."Mr.Krookhaseyedhismannarrowly.Knowshimbysight.Hasanindistinctimpressionofhisaristocraticrepute."Didyouwishtoseehim,sir?""Yes.""It’swhatIseldomdomyself,"saysMr.Krookwithagrin."ShallIcallhimdown?Butit’saweakchanceifhe’dcome,sir!""I’llgouptohim,then,"saysMr.Tulkinghorn."Secondfloor,sir.Takethecandle.Upthere!"Mr.Krook,withhiscatbesidehim,standsatthebottomofthestaircase,lookingafterMr.Tulkinghorn."Hi-hi!"hesayswhenMr.Tulkinghornhasnearlydisappeared.Thelawyerlooksdownoverthehand-rail.Thecatexpandsherwickedmouthandsnarlsathim."Order,LadyJane!Behaveyourselftovisitors,mylady!Youknowwhattheysayofmylodger?"whispersKrook,goingupasteportwo."Whatdotheysayofhim?""Theysayhehassoldhimselftotheenemy,butyouandIknowbetterhedon’tbuy.I’lltellyouwhat,though;mylodgerissoblack-humouredandgloomythatIbelievehe’dassoonmakethatbargainasanyother.Don’tputhimout,sir.That’smyadvice!"Mr.Tulkinghornwithanodgoesonhisway.Hecomestothedarkdooronthesecondfloor.Heknocks,receivesnoanswer,opensit,andaccidentallyextinguisheshiscandleindoingso.Theairoftheroomisalmostbadenoughtohaveextinguisheditifhehadnot.Itisasmallroom,nearlyblackwithsoot,andgrease,anddirt.

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Roboto Lora
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