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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 255/435
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"
Take
a
chair
,
Mr
.
Pip
,
"
said
my
guardian
.
As
I
sat
down
,
and
he
preserved
his
attitude
and
bent
his
brows
at
his
boots
,
I
felt
at
a
disadvantage
,
which
reminded
me
of
that
old
time
when
I
had
been
put
upon
a
tombstone
.
The
two
ghastly
casts
on
the
shelf
were
not
far
from
him
,
and
their
expression
was
as
if
they
were
making
a
stupid
apoplectic
attempt
to
attend
to
the
conversation
.
"
Now
my
young
friend
,
"
my
guardian
began
,
as
if
I
were
a
witness
in
the
box
,
"
I
am
going
to
have
a
word
or
two
with
you
.
"
"
If
you
please
,
sir
.
"
"
What
do
you
suppose
,
"
said
Mr
.
Jaggers
,
bending
forward
to
look
at
the
ground
,
and
then
throwing
his
head
back
to
look
at
the
ceiling
—
"
what
do
you
suppose
you
are
living
at
the
rate
of
?
"
"
At
the
rate
of
,
sir
?
"
"
At
,
"
repeated
Mr
.
Jaggers
,
still
looking
at
the
ceiling
,
"
the
—
rate
—
of
?
"
And
then
looked
all
round
the
room
,
and
paused
with
his
pocket
-
handkerchief
in
his
hand
,
half
-
way
to
his
nose
.
I
had
looked
into
my
affairs
so
often
,
that
I
had
thoroughly
destroyed
any
slight
notion
I
might
ever
have
had
of
their
bearings
.
Reluctantly
,
I
confessed
myself
quite
unable
to
answer
the
question
.
This
reply
seemed
agreeable
to
Mr
.
Jaggers
,
who
said
,
"
I
thought
so
!
"
and
blew
his
nose
with
an
air
of
satisfaction
.
"
Now
,
I
have
asked
you
a
question
,
my
friend
,
"
said
Mr
.
Jaggers
.
"
Have
you
anything
to
ask
me
?
"
