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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Крошка Доррит
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- Стр. 170/761
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Three
o
’
clock
,
and
half
-
past
three
,
and
they
had
passed
over
London
Bridge
.
They
had
heard
the
rush
of
the
tide
against
obstacles
;
and
looked
down
,
awed
,
through
the
dark
vapour
on
the
river
;
had
seen
little
spots
of
lighted
water
where
the
bridge
lamps
were
reflected
,
shining
like
demon
eyes
,
with
a
terrible
fascination
in
them
for
guilt
and
misery
.
They
had
shrunk
past
homeless
people
,
lying
coiled
up
in
nooks
.
They
had
run
from
drunkards
.
They
had
started
from
slinking
men
,
whistling
and
signing
to
one
another
at
bye
corners
,
or
running
away
at
full
speed
.
Though
everywhere
the
leader
and
the
guide
,
Little
Dorrit
,
happy
for
once
in
her
youthful
appearance
,
feigned
to
cling
to
and
rely
upon
Maggy
.
And
more
than
once
some
voice
,
from
among
a
knot
of
brawling
or
prowling
figures
in
their
path
,
had
called
out
to
the
rest
to
‘
let
the
woman
and
the
child
go
by
!
’
So
,
the
woman
and
the
child
had
gone
by
,
and
gone
on
,
and
five
had
sounded
from
the
steeples
.
They
were
walking
slowly
towards
the
east
,
already
looking
for
the
first
pale
streak
of
day
,
when
a
woman
came
after
them
.
‘
What
are
you
doing
with
the
child
?
’
she
said
to
Maggy
.
She
was
young
—
far
too
young
to
be
there
,
Heaven
knows
!
—
and
neither
ugly
nor
wicked
-
looking
.
She
spoke
coarsely
,
but
with
no
naturally
coarse
voice
;
there
was
even
something
musical
in
its
sound
.
‘
What
are
you
doing
with
yourself
?
’
retorted
Maggy
,
for
want
of
a
better
answer
.
‘
Can
’
t
you
see
,
without
my
telling
you
?
’
‘
I
don
’
t
know
as
I
can
,
’
said
Maggy
.
‘
Killing
myself
!
Now
I
have
answered
you
,
answer
me
.
What
are
you
doing
with
the
child
?
’
The
supposed
child
kept
her
head
drooped
down
,
and
kept
her
form
close
at
Maggy
’
s
side
.
