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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Крошка Доррит
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- Стр. 36/761
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Mrs
Clennam
signified
assent
;
then
added
,
‘
No
more
of
business
on
this
day
,
’
and
then
added
,
‘
Affery
,
it
is
nine
o
’
clock
.
’
Upon
this
,
the
old
woman
cleared
the
little
table
,
went
out
of
the
room
,
and
quickly
returned
with
a
tray
on
which
was
a
dish
of
little
rusks
and
a
small
precise
pat
of
butter
,
cool
,
symmetrical
,
white
,
and
plump
.
The
old
man
who
had
been
standing
by
the
door
in
one
attitude
during
the
whole
interview
,
looking
at
the
mother
up
-
stairs
as
he
had
looked
at
the
son
down
-
stairs
,
went
out
at
the
same
time
,
and
,
after
a
longer
absence
,
returned
with
another
tray
on
which
was
the
greater
part
of
a
bottle
of
port
wine
(
which
,
to
judge
by
his
panting
,
he
had
brought
from
the
cellar
)
,
a
lemon
,
a
sugar
-
basin
,
and
a
spice
box
.
With
these
materials
and
the
aid
of
the
kettle
,
he
filled
a
tumbler
with
a
hot
and
odorous
mixture
,
measured
out
and
compounded
with
as
much
nicety
as
a
physician
’
s
prescription
.
Into
this
mixture
Mrs
Clennam
dipped
certain
of
the
rusks
,
and
ate
them
;
while
the
old
woman
buttered
certain
other
of
the
rusks
,
which
were
to
be
eaten
alone
.
When
the
invalid
had
eaten
all
the
rusks
and
drunk
all
the
mixture
,
the
two
trays
were
removed
;
and
the
books
and
the
candle
,
watch
,
handkerchief
,
and
spectacles
were
replaced
upon
the
table
.
She
then
put
on
the
spectacles
and
read
certain
passages
aloud
from
a
book
—
sternly
,
fiercely
,
wrathfully
—
praying
that
her
enemies
(
she
made
them
by
her
tone
and
manner
expressly
hers
)
might
be
put
to
the
edge
of
the
sword
,
consumed
by
fire
,
smitten
by
plagues
and
leprosy
,
that
their
bones
might
be
ground
to
dust
,
and
that
they
might
be
utterly
exterminated
.
As
she
read
on
,
years
seemed
to
fall
away
from
her
son
like
the
imaginings
of
a
dream
,
and
all
the
old
dark
horrors
of
his
usual
preparation
for
the
sleep
of
an
innocent
child
to
overshadow
him
.
She
shut
the
book
and
remained
for
a
little
time
with
her
face
shaded
by
her
hand
.
So
did
the
old
man
,
otherwise
still
unchanged
in
attitude
;
so
,
probably
,
did
the
old
woman
in
her
dimmer
part
of
the
room
.
Then
the
sick
woman
was
ready
for
bed
.
‘
Good
night
,
Arthur
.
Affery
will
see
to
your
accommodation
.
Only
touch
me
,
for
my
hand
is
tender
.
’
He
touched
the
worsted
muffling
of
her
hand
—
that
was
nothing
;
if
his
mother
had
been
sheathed
in
brass
there
would
have
been
no
new
barrier
between
them
—
and
followed
the
old
man
and
woman
down
-
stairs
.
The
latter
asked
him
,
when
they
were
alone
together
among
the
heavy
shadows
of
the
dining
-
room
,
would
he
have
some
supper
?
‘
No
,
Affery
,
no
supper
.
’
‘
You
shall
if
you
like
,
’
said
Affery
.
‘
There
’
s
her
tomorrow
’
s
partridge
in
the
larder
—
her
first
this
year
;
say
the
word
and
I
’
ll
cook
it
.
’
No
,
he
had
not
long
dined
,
and
could
eat
nothing
.
‘
Have
something
to
drink
,
then
,
’
said
Affery
;
‘
you
shall
have
some
of
her
bottle
of
port
,
if
you
like
.
I
’
ll
tell
Jeremiah
that
you
ordered
me
to
bring
it
you
.
’
