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- Чарльз Диккенс
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There
was
a
bell
-
rope
hanging
on
the
panelled
wall
,
some
two
or
three
yards
from
the
cabinet
.
By
a
swift
and
sudden
action
of
her
foot
,
she
drove
her
wheeled
chair
rapidly
back
to
it
and
pulled
it
violently
—
still
holding
her
arm
up
in
its
shield
-
like
posture
,
as
if
he
were
striking
at
her
,
and
she
warding
off
the
blow
.
A
girl
came
hurrying
in
,
frightened
.
‘
Send
Flintwinch
here
!
’
In
a
moment
the
girl
had
withdrawn
,
and
the
old
man
stood
within
the
door
.
‘
What
!
You
’
re
hammer
and
tongs
,
already
,
you
two
?
’
he
said
,
coolly
stroking
his
face
.
‘
I
thought
you
would
be
.
I
was
pretty
sure
of
it
.
’
‘
Flintwinch
!
’
said
the
mother
,
‘
look
at
my
son
.
Look
at
him
!
’
‘
Well
,
I
am
looking
at
him
,
’
said
Flintwinch
.
She
stretched
out
the
arm
with
which
she
had
shielded
herself
,
and
as
she
went
on
,
pointed
at
the
object
of
her
anger
.
‘
In
the
very
hour
of
his
return
almost
—
before
the
shoe
upon
his
foot
is
dry
—
he
asperses
his
father
’
s
memory
to
his
mother
!
Asks
his
mother
to
become
,
with
him
,
a
spy
upon
his
father
’
s
transactions
through
a
lifetime
!
Has
misgivings
that
the
goods
of
this
world
which
we
have
painfully
got
together
early
and
late
,
with
wear
and
tear
and
toil
and
self
-
denial
,
are
so
much
plunder
;
and
asks
to
whom
they
shall
be
given
up
,
as
reparation
and
restitution
!
’
Although
she
said
this
raging
,
she
said
it
in
a
voice
so
far
from
being
beyond
her
control
that
it
was
even
lower
than
her
usual
tone
.
She
also
spoke
with
great
distinctness
.
