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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 149/435
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"
Ma
thear
Mithter
Jaggerth
.
Hown
brother
to
Habraham
Latharuth
?
"
"
Who
’
s
he
?
"
said
Mr
.
Jaggers
.
"
Let
go
of
my
coat
.
"
The
suitor
,
kissing
the
hem
of
the
garment
again
before
relinquishing
it
,
replied
,
"
Habraham
Latharuth
,
on
thuthpithion
of
plate
.
"
"
You
’
re
too
late
,
"
said
Mr
.
Jaggers
.
"
I
am
over
the
way
.
"
"
Holy
father
,
Mithter
Jaggerth
!
"
cried
my
excitable
acquaintance
,
turning
white
,
"
don
’
t
thay
you
’
re
again
Habraham
Latharuth
!
"
"
I
am
,
"
said
Mr
.
Jaggers
,
"
and
there
’
s
an
end
of
it
.
Get
out
of
the
way
.
"
"
Mithter
Jaggerth
!
Half
a
moment
!
My
hown
cuthen
’
th
gone
to
Mithter
Wemmick
at
thith
prethent
minute
,
to
hoffer
him
hany
termth
.
Mithter
Jaggerth
!
Half
a
quarter
of
a
moment
!
If
you
’
d
have
the
condethenthun
to
be
bought
off
from
the
t
’
other
thide
—
at
hany
thuperior
prithe
!
—
money
no
object
!
—
Mithter
Jaggerth
—
Mithter
—
!
"
My
guardian
threw
his
supplicant
off
with
supreme
indifference
,
and
left
him
dancing
on
the
pavement
as
if
it
were
red
hot
.
Without
further
interruption
,
we
reached
the
front
office
,
where
we
found
the
clerk
and
the
man
in
velveteen
with
the
fur
cap
.
"
Here
’
s
Mike
,
"
said
the
clerk
,
getting
down
from
his
stool
,
and
approaching
Mr
.
Jaggers
confidentially
.
