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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Оливер Твист
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- Стр. 202/420
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'
It
must
have
been
something
,
love
,
'
urged
Mr.
Bumble
.
'
Wo
n't
you
tell
your
own
B.
?
'
'
Not
now
,
'
rejoined
the
lady
;
'
one
of
these
days
.
After
we
're
married
,
dear
.
'
'
After
we
're
married
!
'
exclaimed
Mr.
Bumble
.
'
It
was
n't
any
impudence
from
any
of
them
male
paupers
as
--
'
'
No
,
no
,
love
!
'
interposed
the
lady
,
hastily
.
'
If
I
thought
it
was
,
'
continued
Mr.
Bumble
;
'
if
I
thought
as
any
one
of
'em
had
dared
to
lift
his
wulgar
eyes
to
that
lovely
countenance
--
'
'
They
would
n't
have
dared
to
do
it
,
love
,
'
responded
the
lady
.
'
They
had
better
not
!
'
said
Mr.
Bumble
,
clenching
his
fist
.
'
Let
me
see
any
man
,
porochial
or
extra-porochial
,
as
would
presume
to
do
it
;
and
I
can
tell
him
that
he
would
n't
do
it
a
second
time
!
'
Unembellished
by
any
violence
of
gesticulation
,
this
might
have
seemed
no
very
high
compliment
to
the
lady
's
charms
;
but
,
as
Mr.
Bumble
accompanied
the
threat
with
many
warlike
gestures
,
she
was
much
touched
with
this
proof
of
his
devotion
,
and
protested
,
with
great
admiration
,
that
he
was
indeed
a
dove
.
The
dove
then
turned
up
his
coat-collar
,
and
put
on
his
cocked
hat
;
and
,
having
exchanged
a
long
and
affectionate
embrace
with
his
future
partner
,
once
again
braved
the
cold
wind
of
the
night
:
merely
pausing
,
for
a
few
minutes
,
in
the
male
paupers
'
ward
,
to
abuse
them
a
little
,
with
the
view
of
satisfying
himself
that
he
could
fill
the
office
of
workhouse-master
with
needful
acerbity
.
Assured
of
his
qualifications
,
Mr.
Bumble
left
the
building
with
a
light
heart
,
and
bright
visions
of
his
future
promotion
:
which
served
to
occupy
his
mind
until
he
reached
the
shop
of
the
undertaker
.
