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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Оливер Твист
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Uttering
this
last
panegyrie
,
Master
Bates
produced
,
from
one
of
his
extensive
pockets
,
a
full-sized
wine-bottle
,
carefully
corked
;
while
Mr.
Dawkins
,
at
the
same
instant
,
poured
out
a
wine-glassful
of
raw
spirits
from
the
bottle
he
carried
:
which
the
invalid
tossed
down
his
throat
without
a
moment
's
hesitation
.
'
Ah
!
'
said
Fagin
,
rubbing
his
hands
with
great
satisfaction
.
'
You
'll
do
,
Bill
;
you
'll
do
now
.
'
'
Do
!
'
exclaimed
Mr.
Sikes
;
'
I
might
have
been
done
for
,
twenty
times
over
,
afore
you
'd
have
done
anything
to
help
me
.
What
do
you
mean
by
leaving
a
man
in
this
state
,
three
weeks
and
more
,
you
false-hearted
wagabond
?
'
'
Only
hear
him
,
boys
!
'
said
Fagin
,
shrugging
his
shoulders
.
'
And
us
come
to
bring
him
all
these
beau-ti-ful
things
.
'
'
The
things
is
well
enough
in
their
way
,
'
observed
Mr.
Sikes
:
a
little
soothed
as
he
glanced
over
the
table
;
'
but
what
have
you
got
to
say
for
yourself
,
why
you
should
leave
me
here
,
down
in
the
mouth
,
health
,
blunt
,
and
everything
else
;
and
take
no
more
notice
of
me
,
all
this
mortal
time
,
than
if
I
was
that
'
ere
dog
.
--
Drive
him
down
,
Charley
!
'
'
I
never
see
such
a
jolly
dog
as
that
,
'
cried
Master
Bates
,
doing
as
he
was
desired
.
'
Smelling
the
grub
like
a
old
lady
a
going
to
market
!
He
'd
make
his
fortun
'
on
the
stage
that
dog
would
,
and
rewive
the
drayma
besides
.
'
'
Hold
your
din
,
'
cried
Sikes
,
as
the
dog
retreated
under
the
bed
:
still
growling
angrily
.
'
What
have
you
got
to
say
for
yourself
,
you
withered
old
fence
,
eh
?
'
'
I
was
away
from
London
,
a
week
and
more
,
my
dear
,
on
a
plant
,
'
replied
the
Jew
.
