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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Оливер Твист
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'
Ladies
present
,
Mr.
Giles
,
'
murmured
the
tinker
.
'
--
Of
SHOES
,
sir
,
'
said
Giles
,
turning
upon
him
,
and
laying
great
emphasis
on
the
word
;
'
seized
the
loaded
pistol
that
always
goes
upstairs
with
the
plate-basket
;
and
walked
on
tiptoes
to
his
room
.
"
Brittles
,
"
I
says
,
when
I
had
woke
him
,
"
do
n't
be
frightened
!
"
'
'
So
you
did
,
'
observed
Brittles
,
in
a
low
voice
.
'
"
We
're
dead
men
,
I
think
,
Brittles
,
"
I
says
,
'
continued
Giles
;
'
"
but
do
n't
be
frightened
.
"
'
'
WAS
he
frightened
?
'
asked
the
cook
.
'
Not
a
bit
of
it
,
'
replied
Mr.
Giles
.
'
He
was
as
firm
--
ah
!
pretty
near
as
firm
as
I
was
.
'
'
I
should
have
died
at
once
,
I
'm
sure
,
if
it
had
been
me
,
'
observed
the
housemaid
.
'
You
're
a
woman
,
'
retorted
Brittles
,
plucking
up
a
little
.
'
Brittles
is
right
,
'
said
Mr.
Giles
,
nodding
his
head
,
approvingly
;
'
from
a
woman
,
nothing
else
was
to
be
expected
.
We
,
being
men
,
took
a
dark
lantern
that
was
standing
on
Brittle
's
hob
,
and
groped
our
way
downstairs
in
the
pitch
dark
--
as
it
might
be
so
.
'
Mr.
Giles
had
risen
from
his
seat
,
and
taken
two
steps
with
his
eyes
shut
,
to
accompany
his
description
with
appropriate
action
,
when
he
started
violently
,
in
common
with
the
rest
of
the
company
,
and
hurried
back
to
his
chair
.
The
cook
and
housemaid
screamed
.
