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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 124/247
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'
Well
,
Stephen
,
'
said
Bounderby
,
in
his
windy
manner
,
'
what
's
this
I
hear
?
What
have
these
pests
of
the
earth
been
doing
to
you
?
Come
in
,
and
speak
up
.
'
It
was
into
the
drawing-room
that
he
was
thus
bidden
.
A
tea-table
was
set
out
;
and
Mr.
Bounderby
's
young
wife
,
and
her
brother
,
and
a
great
gentleman
from
London
,
were
present
.
To
whom
Stephen
made
his
obeisance
,
closing
the
door
and
standing
near
it
,
with
his
hat
in
his
hand
.
'
This
is
the
man
I
was
telling
you
about
,
Harthouse
,
'
said
Mr.
Bounderby
.
The
gentleman
he
addressed
,
who
was
talking
to
Mrs.
Bounderby
on
the
sofa
,
got
up
,
saying
in
an
indolent
way
,
'
Oh
really
?
'
and
dawdled
to
the
hearthrug
where
Mr.
Bounderby
stood
.
'
Now
,
'
said
Bounderby
,
'
speak
up
!
'
After
the
four
days
he
had
passed
,
this
address
fell
rudely
and
discordantly
on
Stephen
's
ear
.
Besides
being
a
rough
handling
of
his
wounded
mind
,
it
seemed
to
assume
that
he
really
was
the
self-interested
deserter
he
had
been
called
.
'
What
were
it
,
sir
,
'
said
Stephen
,
'
as
yo
were
pleased
to
want
wi
'
me
?
'
'
Why
,
I
have
told
you
,
'
returned
Bounderby
.
'
Speak
up
like
a
man
,
since
you
are
a
man
,
and
tell
us
about
yourself
and
this
Combination
.
'
'
Wi
'
yor
pardon
,
sir
,
'
said
Stephen
Blackpool
,
'
I
ha
'
nowt
to
sen
about
it
.
'
Mr.
Bounderby
,
who
was
always
more
or
less
like
a
Wind
,
finding
something
in
his
way
here
,
began
to
blow
at
it
directly
.
'
Now
,
look
here
,
Harthouse
,
'
said
he
,
'
here
's
a
specimen
of
'em
.
