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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 172/820
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‘
N
-
no
,
’
I
said
.
‘
Ain
’
t
you
,
by
G
—
?
If
you
make
a
brag
of
your
honesty
to
me
,
’
said
the
tinker
,
‘
I
’
ll
knock
your
brains
out
.
’
With
his
disengaged
hand
he
made
a
menace
of
striking
me
,
and
then
looked
at
me
from
head
to
foot
.
‘
Have
you
got
the
price
of
a
pint
of
beer
about
you
?
’
said
the
tinker
.
‘
If
you
have
,
out
with
it
,
afore
I
take
it
away
!
’
I
should
certainly
have
produced
it
,
but
that
I
met
the
woman
’
s
look
,
and
saw
her
very
slightly
shake
her
head
,
and
form
‘
No
!
’
with
her
lips
.
‘
I
am
very
poor
,
’
I
said
,
attempting
to
smile
,
‘
and
have
got
no
money
.
’
‘
Why
,
what
do
you
mean
?
’
said
the
tinker
,
looking
so
sternly
at
me
,
that
I
almost
feared
he
saw
the
money
in
my
pocket
.
‘
Sir
!
’
I
stammered
.
‘
What
do
you
mean
,
’
said
the
tinker
,
‘
by
wearing
my
brother
’
s
silk
handkerchief
!
Give
it
over
here
!
’
And
he
had
mine
off
my
neck
in
a
moment
,
and
tossed
it
to
the
woman
.
The
woman
burst
into
a
fit
of
laughter
,
as
if
she
thought
this
a
joke
,
and
tossed
it
back
to
me
,
nodded
once
,
as
slightly
as
before
,
and
made
the
word
‘
Go
!
’
with
her
lips
.
Before
I
could
obey
,
however
,
the
tinker
seized
the
handkerchief
out
of
my
hand
with
a
roughness
that
threw
me
away
like
a
feather
,
and
putting
it
loosely
round
his
own
neck
,
turned
upon
the
woman
with
an
oath
,
and
knocked
her
down
.
