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- Чарльз Диккенс
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He
got
through
the
day
as
much
(
or
as
little
)
to
his
own
satisfaction
,
as
was
to
be
expected
under
the
fatiguing
circumstances
;
and
came
riding
back
at
six
o'clock
.
There
was
a
sweep
of
some
half-mile
between
the
lodge
and
the
house
,
and
he
was
riding
along
at
a
foot
pace
over
the
smooth
gravel
,
once
Nickits
's
,
when
Mr.
Bounderby
burst
out
of
the
shrubbery
,
with
such
violence
as
to
make
his
horse
shy
across
the
road
.
'
Harthouse
!
'
cried
Mr.
Bounderby
.
'
Have
you
heard
?
'
'
Heard
what
?
'
said
Harthouse
,
soothing
his
horse
,
and
inwardly
favouring
Mr.
Bounderby
with
no
good
wishes
.
'
Then
you
have
n't
heard
!
'
'
I
have
heard
you
,
and
so
has
this
brute
.
I
have
heard
nothing
else
.
'
Mr.
Bounderby
,
red
and
hot
,
planted
himself
in
the
centre
of
the
path
before
the
horse
's
head
,
to
explode
his
bombshell
with
more
effect
.
'
The
Bank
's
robbed
!
'
'
You
do
n't
mean
it
!
'
'
Robbed
last
night
,
sir
.
Robbed
in
an
extraordinary
manner
.
Robbed
with
a
false
key
.
'
'
Of
much
?
'
