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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Крошка Доррит
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- Стр. 314/761
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She
was
going
to
answer
,
when
she
was
so
touched
by
some
little
hidden
sorrow
or
sympathy
—
what
could
it
have
been
?
—
that
she
said
,
bursting
into
tears
again
:
‘
O
Mr
Clennam
!
Good
,
generous
,
Mr
Clennam
,
pray
tell
me
you
do
not
blame
me
.
’
‘
I
blame
you
?
’
said
Clennam
.
‘
My
dearest
girl
!
I
blame
you
?
No
!
’
After
clasping
both
her
hands
upon
his
arm
,
and
looking
confidentially
up
into
his
face
,
with
some
hurried
words
to
the
effect
that
she
thanked
him
from
her
heart
(
as
she
did
,
if
it
be
the
source
of
earnestness
)
,
she
gradually
composed
herself
,
with
now
and
then
a
word
of
encouragement
from
him
,
as
they
walked
on
slowly
and
almost
silently
under
the
darkening
trees
.
‘
And
,
now
,
Minnie
Gowan
,
’
at
length
said
Clennam
,
smiling
;
‘
will
you
ask
me
nothing
?
’
‘
Oh
!
I
have
very
much
to
ask
of
you
.
’
‘
That
’
s
well
!
I
hope
so
;
I
am
not
disappointed
.
’
‘
You
know
how
I
am
loved
at
home
,
and
how
I
love
home
.
You
can
hardly
think
it
perhaps
,
dear
Mr
Clennam
,
’
she
spoke
with
great
agitation
,
‘
seeing
me
going
from
it
of
my
own
free
will
and
choice
,
but
I
do
so
dearly
love
it
!
’
‘
I
am
sure
of
that
,
’
said
Clennam
.
‘
Can
you
suppose
I
doubt
it
?
’
‘
No
,
no
.
But
it
is
strange
,
even
to
me
,
that
loving
it
so
much
and
being
so
much
beloved
in
it
,
I
can
bear
to
cast
it
away
.
It
seems
so
neglectful
of
it
,
so
unthankful
.
’
