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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 66/435
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"
Rum
,
"
said
Mr
.
Wopsle
.
"
Three
Rums
!
"
cried
the
stranger
,
calling
to
the
landlord
.
"
Glasses
round
!
"
"
This
other
gentleman
,
"
observed
Joe
,
by
way
of
introducing
Mr
.
Wopsle
,
"
is
a
gentleman
that
you
would
like
to
hear
give
it
out
.
Our
clerk
at
church
.
"
"
Aha
!
"
said
the
stranger
,
quickly
,
and
cocking
his
eye
at
me
.
"
The
lonely
church
,
right
out
on
the
marshes
,
with
graves
round
it
!
"
"
That
’
s
it
,
"
said
Joe
.
The
stranger
,
with
a
comfortable
kind
of
grunt
over
his
pipe
,
put
his
legs
up
on
the
settle
that
he
had
to
himself
.
He
wore
a
flapping
broad
-
brimmed
traveller
’
s
hat
,
and
under
it
a
handkerchief
tied
over
his
head
in
the
manner
of
a
cap
:
so
that
he
showed
no
hair
.
As
he
looked
at
the
fire
,
I
thought
I
saw
a
cunning
expression
,
followed
by
a
half
-
laugh
,
come
into
his
face
.
"
I
am
not
acquainted
with
this
country
,
gentlemen
,
but
it
seems
a
solitary
country
towards
the
river
.
"
"
Most
marshes
is
solitary
,
"
said
Joe
.
"
No
doubt
,
no
doubt
.
Do
you
find
any
gypsies
,
now
,
or
tramps
,
or
vagrants
of
any
sort
,
out
there
?
"
"
No
,
"
said
Joe
;
"
none
but
a
runaway
convict
now
and
then
.
