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- Чарльз Диккенс
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'
I
do
n't
see
why
,
'
grumbled
the
son
.
'
So
many
people
are
employed
in
situations
of
trust
;
so
many
people
,
out
of
so
many
,
will
be
dishonest
.
I
have
heard
you
talk
,
a
hundred
times
,
of
its
being
a
law
.
How
can
I
help
laws
?
You
have
comforted
others
with
such
things
,
father
.
Comfort
yourself
!
'
The
father
buried
his
face
in
his
hands
,
and
the
son
stood
in
his
disgraceful
grotesqueness
,
biting
straw
:
his
hands
,
with
the
black
partly
worn
away
inside
,
looking
like
the
hands
of
a
monkey
.
The
evening
was
fast
closing
in
;
and
from
time
to
time
,
he
turned
the
whites
of
his
eyes
restlessly
and
impatiently
towards
his
father
.
They
were
the
only
parts
of
his
face
that
showed
any
life
or
expression
,
the
pigment
upon
it
was
so
thick
.
'
You
must
be
got
to
Liverpool
,
and
sent
abroad
.
'
'
I
suppose
I
must
.
I
ca
n't
be
more
miserable
anywhere
,
'
whimpered
the
whelp
,
'
than
I
have
been
here
,
ever
since
I
can
remember
.
That
's
one
thing
.
'
Mr.
Gradgrind
went
to
the
door
,
and
returned
with
Sleary
,
to
whom
he
submitted
the
question
,
How
to
get
this
deplorable
object
away
?
'
Why
,
I
've
been
thinking
of
it
,
Thquire
.
There
'
th
not
muth
time
to
lothe
,
tho
you
muth
thay
yeth
or
no
.
Ith
over
twenty
mileth
to
the
rail
.
There
'
th
a
coath
in
half
an
hour
,
that
goeth
to
the
rail
,
'
purpothe
to
cath
the
mail
train
.
That
train
will
take
him
right
to
Liverpool
.
'
'
But
look
at
him
,
'
groaned
Mr.
Gradgrind
.
'
Will
any
coach
--
'
'
I
do
n't
mean
that
he
thould
go
in
the
comic
livery
,
'
said
Sleary
.
'
Thay
the
word
,
and
I
'll
make
a
Jothkin
of
him
,
out
of
the
wardrobe
,
in
five
minutes
.
'
'
I
do
n't
understand
,
'
said
Mr.
Gradgrind
.
