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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Тяжёлые времена
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- Стр. 102/247
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The
visitor
having
strolled
to
the
window
,
and
being
then
engaged
in
looking
carelessly
out
,
was
as
unmoved
by
this
impressive
entry
as
man
could
possibly
be
.
He
stood
whistling
to
himself
with
all
imaginable
coolness
,
with
his
hat
still
on
,
and
a
certain
air
of
exhaustion
upon
him
,
in
part
arising
from
excessive
summer
,
and
in
part
from
excessive
gentility
.
For
it
was
to
be
seen
with
half
an
eye
that
he
was
a
thorough
gentleman
,
made
to
the
model
of
the
time
;
weary
of
everything
,
and
putting
no
more
faith
in
anything
than
Lucifer
.
'
I
believe
,
sir
,
'
quoth
Mrs.
Sparsit
,
'
you
wished
to
see
me
.
'
'
I
beg
your
pardon
,
'
he
said
,
turning
and
removing
his
hat
;
'
pray
excuse
me
.
'
'
Humph
!
'
thought
Mrs.
Sparsit
,
as
she
made
a
stately
bend
.
'
Five
and
thirty
,
good-looking
,
good
figure
,
good
teeth
,
good
voice
,
good
breeding
,
well-dressed
,
dark
hair
,
bold
eyes
.
'
All
which
Mrs.
Sparsit
observed
in
her
womanly
way
--
like
the
Sultan
who
put
his
head
in
the
pail
of
water
--
merely
in
dipping
down
and
coming
up
again
.
'
Please
to
be
seated
,
sir
,
'
said
Mrs.
Sparsit
.
'
Thank
you
.
Allow
me
.
'
He
placed
a
chair
for
her
,
but
remained
himself
carelessly
lounging
against
the
table
.
'
I
left
my
servant
at
the
railway
looking
after
the
luggage
--
very
heavy
train
and
vast
quantity
of
it
in
the
van
--
and
strolled
on
,
looking
about
me
.
Exceedingly
odd
place
.
Will
you
allow
me
to
ask
you
if
it
's
always
as
black
as
this
?
'
'
In
general
much
blacker
,
'
returned
Mrs.
Sparsit
,
in
her
uncompromising
way
.
'
Is
it
possible
!
Excuse
me
:
you
are
not
a
native
,
I
think
?
'
'
No
,
sir
,
'
returned
Mrs.
Sparsit
.
'
It
was
once
my
good
or
ill
fortune
,
as
it
may
be
--
before
I
became
a
widow
--
to
move
in
a
very
different
sphere
.
My
husband
was
a
Powler
.
'
