Холодний дім

The Appointed Time

           What’sthat?""It’seleveno’clockstrikingbythebellofSaintPaul’s.Listenandyou’llhearallthebellsinthecityjangling."Bothsitsilent,listeningtothemetalvoices,nearanddistant,resoundingfromtowersofvariousheights,intonesmorevariousthantheirsituations.Whentheseatlengthcease,allseemsmoremysteriousandquietthanbefore.Onedisagreeableresultofwhisperingisthatitseemstoevokeanatmosphereofsilence,hauntedbytheghostsofsoundstrangecracksandtickings,therustlingofgarmentsthathavenosubstanceinthem,andthetreadofdreadfulfeetthatwouldleavenomarkonthesea-sandorthewintersnow.Sosensitivethetwofriendshappentobethattheairisfullofthesephantoms,andthetwolookovertheirshouldersbyoneconsenttoseethatthedoorisshut."Yes,Tony?"saysMr.Guppy,drawingnearertothefireandbitinghisunsteadythumb-nail."Youweregoingtosay,thirdly?""It’sfarfromapleasantthingtobeplottingaboutadeadmanintheroomwherehedied,especiallywhenyouhappentoliveinit.""Butweareplottingnothingagainsthim,Tony.""Maybenot,stillIdon’tlikeit.LiveherebyyourselfandseehowYOUlikeit.""Astodeadmen,Tony,"proceedsMr.Guppy,evadingthisproposal,"therehavebeendeadmeninmostrooms.""Iknowtherehave,butinmostroomsyouletthemalone,andandtheyletyoualone,"Tonyanswers.Thetwolookateachotheragain.Mr.Guppymakesahurriedremarktotheeffectthattheymaybedoingthedeceasedaservice,thathehopesso.ThereisanoppressiveblankuntilMr.

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Roboto Lora
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