Холодний дім

The Appointed Time

           Guppy,lookingathim,snuffersinhand,ashesitsdownwithhiselbowonthetable."WilliamGuppy,"repliestheother,"Iaminthedowns.It’sthisunbearablydull,suicidalroomandoldBogueydownstairs,Isuppose."Mr.Weevlemoodilypushesthesnuffers-trayfromhimwithhiselbow,leanshisheadonhishand,putshisfeetonthefender,andlooksatthefire.Mr.Guppy,observinghim,slightlytosseshisheadandsitsdownontheothersideofthetableinaneasyattitude."Wasn’tthatSnagsbytalkingtoyou,Tony?""Yes,andheyes,itwasSnagsby,"saidMr.Weevle,alteringtheconstructionofhissentence."Onbusiness?""No.Nobusiness.Hewasonlysaunteringbyandstoppedtoprose.""IthoughtitwasSnagsby,"saysMr.Guppy,"andthoughtitaswellthatheshouldn’tseeme,soIwaitedtillhewasgone.""Therewegoagain,WilliamG.!"criedTony,lookingupforaninstant."Somysteriousandsecret!ByGeorge,ifweweregoingtocommitamurder,wecouldn’thavemoremysteryaboutit!"Mr.Guppyaffectstosmile,andwiththeviewofchangingtheconversation,lookswithanadmiration,realorpretended,roundtheroomattheGalaxyGalleryofBritishBeauty,terminatinghissurveywiththeportraitofLadyDedlockoverthemantelshelf,inwhichsheisrepresentedonaterrace,withapedestalupontheterrace,andavaseuponthepedestal,andhershawluponthevase,andaprodigiouspieceoffurupontheshawl,andherarmontheprodigiouspieceoffur,andabraceletonherarm."That’sverylikeLadyDedlock,"saysMr.Guppy."It’saspeakinglikeness.

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