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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Крошка Доррит
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At
another
time
he
asked
him
,
‘
Do
you
walk
much
,
Nandy
,
about
the
yard
within
the
walls
of
that
place
of
yours
?
’
‘
No
,
sir
;
no
.
I
haven
’
t
any
great
liking
for
that
.
’
‘
No
,
to
be
sure
,
’
he
assented
.
‘
Very
natural
.
’
Then
he
privately
informed
the
circle
(
‘
Legs
going
.
’
)
Once
he
asked
the
pensioner
,
in
that
general
clemency
which
asked
him
anything
to
keep
him
afloat
,
how
old
his
younger
grandchild
was
?
‘
John
Edward
,
’
said
the
pensioner
,
slowly
laying
down
his
knife
and
fork
to
consider
.
‘
How
old
,
sir
?
Let
me
think
now
.
’
The
Father
of
the
Marshalsea
tapped
his
forehead
(
‘
Memory
weak
.
’
)
‘
John
Edward
,
sir
?
Well
,
I
really
forget
.
I
couldn
’
t
say
at
this
minute
,
sir
,
whether
it
’
s
two
and
two
months
,
or
whether
it
’
s
two
and
five
months
.
It
’
s
one
or
the
other
.
’
‘
Don
’
t
distress
yourself
by
worrying
your
mind
about
it
,
’
he
returned
,
with
infinite
forbearance
.
(
‘
Faculties
evidently
decaying
—
old
man
rusts
in
the
life
he
leads
!
’
)
The
more
of
these
discoveries
that
he
persuaded
himself
he
made
in
the
pensioner
,
the
better
he
appeared
to
like
him
;
and
when
he
got
out
of
his
chair
after
tea
to
bid
the
pensioner
good
-
bye
,
on
his
intimating
that
he
feared
,
honoured
sir
,
his
time
was
running
out
,
he
made
himself
look
as
erect
and
strong
as
possible
.
