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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Крошка Доррит
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- Стр. 658/761
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‘
At
me
again
,
sir
!
’
exclaimed
Pancks
,
loosening
his
hold
of
his
hair
;
‘
at
me
again
,
and
again
!
’
Clennam
,
however
,
finding
him
already
beginning
to
be
pacified
,
had
said
all
he
wanted
to
say
,
and
more
.
He
wrung
his
hand
,
only
adding
,
‘
Blind
leaders
of
the
blind
,
Pancks
!
Blind
leaders
of
the
blind
!
But
Doyce
,
Doyce
,
Doyce
;
my
injured
partner
!
’
That
brought
his
head
down
on
the
desk
once
more
.
Their
former
attitudes
and
their
former
silence
were
once
more
first
encroached
upon
by
Pancks
.
‘
Not
been
to
bed
,
sir
,
since
it
began
to
get
about
.
Been
high
and
low
,
on
the
chance
of
finding
some
hope
of
saving
any
cinders
from
the
fire
.
All
in
vain
.
All
gone
.
All
vanished
.
’
‘
I
know
it
,
’
returned
Clennam
,
‘
too
well
.
’
Mr
Pancks
filled
up
a
pause
with
a
groan
that
came
out
of
the
very
depths
of
his
soul
.
‘
Only
yesterday
,
Pancks
,
’
said
Arthur
;
‘
only
yesterday
,
Monday
,
I
had
the
fixed
intention
of
selling
,
realising
,
and
making
an
end
of
it
.
’
‘
I
can
’
t
say
as
much
for
myself
,
sir
,
’
returned
Pancks
.
‘
Though
it
’
s
wonderful
how
many
people
I
’
ve
heard
of
,
who
were
going
to
realise
yesterday
,
of
all
days
in
the
three
hundred
and
sixty
-
five
,
if
it
hadn
’
t
been
too
late
!
’
His
steam
-
like
breathings
,
usually
droll
in
their
effect
,
were
more
tragic
than
so
many
groans
:
while
from
head
to
foot
,
he
was
in
that
begrimed
,
besmeared
,
neglected
state
,
that
he
might
have
been
an
authentic
portrait
of
Misfortune
which
could
scarcely
be
discerned
through
its
want
of
cleaning
.
