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- Чарльз Диккенс
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'
Yes
,
'
said
Mrs.
Sparsit
,
suddenly
compressing
her
mouth
,
'
he
had
that
--
honour
.
'
'
The
lady
is
quite
a
philosopher
,
I
am
told
?
'
'
Indeed
,
sir
,
'
said
Mrs.
Sparsit
.
'
Is
she
?
'
'
Excuse
my
impertinent
curiosity
,
'
pursued
the
stranger
,
fluttering
over
Mrs.
Sparsit
's
eyebrows
,
with
a
propitiatory
air
,
'
but
you
know
the
family
,
and
know
the
world
.
I
am
about
to
know
the
family
,
and
may
have
much
to
do
with
them
.
Is
the
lady
so
very
alarming
?
Her
father
gives
her
such
a
portentously
hard-headed
reputation
,
that
I
have
a
burning
desire
to
know
.
Is
she
absolutely
unapproachable
?
Repellently
and
stunningly
clever
?
I
see
,
by
your
meaning
smile
,
you
think
not
.
You
have
poured
balm
into
my
anxious
soul
.
As
to
age
,
now
.
Forty
?
Five
and
thirty
?
'
Mrs.
Sparsit
laughed
outright
.
'
A
chit
,
'
said
she
.
'
Not
twenty
when
she
was
married
.
'
'
I
give
you
my
honour
,
Mrs.
Powler
,
'
returned
the
stranger
,
detaching
himself
from
the
table
,
'
that
I
never
was
so
astonished
in
my
life
!
'
It
really
did
seem
to
impress
him
,
to
the
utmost
extent
of
his
capacity
of
being
impressed
.
He
looked
at
his
informant
for
full
a
quarter
of
a
minute
,
and
appeared
to
have
the
surprise
in
his
mind
all
the
time
.
'
I
assure
you
,
Mrs.
Powler
,
'
he
then
said
,
much
exhausted
,
'
that
the
father
's
manner
prepared
me
for
a
grim
and
stony
maturity
.
I
am
obliged
to
you
,
of
all
things
,
for
correcting
so
absurd
a
mistake
.
Pray
excuse
my
intrusion
.
Many
thanks
.
Good
day
!
'
He
bowed
himself
out
;
and
Mrs.
Sparsit
,
hiding
in
the
window
curtain
,
saw
him
languishing
down
the
street
on
the
shady
side
of
the
way
,
observed
of
all
the
town
.
'
What
do
you
think
of
the
gentleman
,
Bitzer
?
'
she
asked
the
light
porter
,
when
he
came
to
take
away
.
