Холодний дім

Jo’s Will

           Hewon’tholdoff,andhewon’tcomeon.IfIhaveapaymenttomakehim,ortimetoaskhimfor,oranythingtogotohimabout,hedon’tseeme,don’thearmepassesmeontoMelchisedech’sinClifford’sInn,Melchisedech’sinClifford’sInnpassesmebackagaintohimhekeepsmeprowlinganddanglingabouthimasifIwasmadeofthesamestoneashimself.Why,Ispendhalfmylifenow,prettywell,loiteringanddodgingabouthisdoor.Whatdoeshecare?Nothing.JustasmuchastherustyoldcarbineIhavecomparedhimto.HechafesandgoadsmetillBah!Nonsense!Iamforgettingmyself.Mr.Woodcourt,"thetrooperresumeshismarch,"allIsayis,heisanoldman;butIamgladIshallneverhavethechanceofsettingspurstomyhorseandridingathiminafairfield.ForifIhadthatchance,inoneofthehumourshedrivesmeintohe’dgodown,sir!"Mr.Georgehasbeensoexcitedthathefindsitnecessarytowipehisforeheadonhisshirt-sleeve.Evenwhilehewhistleshisimpetuosityawaywiththenationalanthem,someinvoluntaryshakingsofhisheadandheavingsofhischeststilllingerbehind,nottomentionanoccasionalhastyadjustmentwithbothhandsofhisopenshirt-collar,asifitwerescarcelyopenenoughtopreventhisbeingtroubledbyachokingsensation.Inshort,AllanWoodcourthasnotmuchdoubtaboutthegoingdownofMr.Tulkinghornonthefieldreferredto.

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