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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 711/859
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Bob
Sawyer
intimated
his
recollection
of
the
circumstance
last
alluded
to
,
by
a
melancholy
frown
;
and
the
two
friends
remained
for
some
time
absorbed
,
each
in
his
own
meditations
.
While
these
observations
were
being
exchanged
between
Mr
.
Bob
Sawyer
and
Mr
.
Benjamin
Allen
;
and
while
the
boy
in
the
gray
livery
,
marvelling
at
the
unwonted
prolongation
of
the
dinner
,
cast
an
anxious
look
,
from
time
to
time
,
towards
the
glass
door
,
distracted
by
inward
misgivings
regarding
the
amount
of
minced
veal
which
would
be
ultimately
reserved
for
his
individual
cravings
;
there
rolled
soberly
on
through
the
streets
of
Bristol
,
a
private
fly
,
painted
of
a
sad
green
colour
,
drawn
by
a
chubby
sort
of
brown
horse
,
and
driven
by
a
surly
-
looking
man
with
his
legs
dressed
like
the
legs
of
a
groom
,
and
his
body
attired
in
the
coat
of
a
coachman
.
Such
appearances
are
common
to
many
vehicles
belonging
to
,
and
maintained
by
,
old
ladies
of
economic
habits
;
and
in
this
vehicle
sat
an
old
lady
who
was
its
mistress
and
proprietor
.
‘
Martin
!
’
said
the
old
lady
,
calling
to
the
surly
man
,
out
of
the
front
window
.
‘
Well
?
’
said
the
surly
man
,
touching
his
hat
to
the
old
lady
.
‘
Mr
.
Sawyer
’
s
,
’
said
the
old
lady
.
‘
I
was
going
there
,
’
said
the
surly
man
.
The
old
lady
nodded
the
satisfaction
which
this
proof
of
the
surly
man
’
s
foresight
imparted
to
her
feelings
;
and
the
surly
man
giving
a
smart
lash
to
the
chubby
horse
,
they
all
repaired
to
Mr
.
Bob
Sawyer
’
s
together
.
‘
Martin
!
’
said
the
old
lady
,
when
the
fly
stopped
at
the
door
of
Mr
.
Robert
Sawyer
,
late
Nockemorf
.
‘
Well
?
’
said
Martin
.
