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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 336/435
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He
seemed
to
have
hurt
himself
very
much
,
for
he
gave
another
furious
roar
.
"
To
have
Provis
for
an
upper
lodger
is
quite
a
godsend
to
Mrs
.
Whimple
,
"
said
Herbert
,
"
for
of
course
people
in
general
won
’
t
stand
that
noise
.
A
curious
place
,
Handel
;
isn
’
t
it
?
"
It
was
a
curious
place
,
indeed
;
but
remarkably
well
kept
and
clean
.
"
Mrs
.
Whimple
,
"
said
Herbert
,
when
I
told
him
so
,
"
is
the
best
of
housewives
,
and
I
really
do
not
know
what
my
Clara
would
do
without
her
motherly
help
.
For
,
Clara
has
no
mother
of
her
own
,
Handel
,
and
no
relation
in
the
world
but
old
Gruffandgrim
.
"
"
Surely
that
’
s
not
his
name
,
Herbert
?
"
"
No
,
no
,
"
said
Herbert
,
"
that
’
s
my
name
for
him
.
His
name
is
Mr
.
Barley
.
But
what
a
blessing
it
is
for
the
son
of
my
father
and
mother
to
love
a
girl
who
has
no
relations
,
and
who
can
never
bother
herself
or
anybody
else
about
her
family
!
"
Herbert
had
told
me
on
former
occasions
,
and
now
reminded
me
,
that
he
first
knew
Miss
Clara
Barley
when
she
was
completing
her
education
at
an
establishment
at
Hammersmith
,
and
that
on
her
being
recalled
home
to
nurse
her
father
,
he
and
she
had
confided
their
affection
to
the
motherly
Mrs
.
Whimple
,
by
whom
it
had
been
fostered
and
regulated
with
equal
kindness
and
discretion
,
ever
since
.
It
was
understood
that
nothing
of
a
tender
nature
could
possibly
be
confided
to
old
Barley
,
by
reason
of
his
being
totally
unequal
to
the
consideration
of
any
subject
more
psychological
than
Gout
,
Rum
,
and
Purser
’
s
stores
.
As
we
were
thus
conversing
in
a
low
tone
while
Old
Barley
’
s
sustained
growl
vibrated
in
the
beam
that
crossed
the
ceiling
,
the
room
door
opened
,
and
a
very
pretty
,
slight
,
dark
-
eyed
girl
of
twenty
or
so
came
in
with
a
basket
in
her
hand
:
whom
Herbert
tenderly
relieved
of
the
basket
,
and
presented
,
blushing
,
as
"
Clara
.
"
She
really
was
a
most
charming
girl
,
and
might
have
passed
for
a
captive
fairy
,
whom
that
truculent
Ogre
,
Old
Barley
,
had
pressed
into
his
service
.
"
Look
here
,
"
said
Herbert
,
showing
me
the
basket
,
with
a
compassionate
and
tender
smile
,
after
we
had
talked
a
little
;
"
here
’
s
poor
Clara
’
s
supper
,
served
out
every
night
.
Here
’
s
her
allowance
of
bread
,
and
here
’
s
her
slice
of
cheese
,
and
here
’
s
her
rum
—
which
I
drink
.