-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Лавка древностей
-
- Стр. 288/459
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
‘
We
had
warrant
for
what
we
did
,
my
good
sir
,
’
rejoined
Quilp
,
‘
we
had
our
warrant
.
Don
’
t
say
driven
either
.
He
went
of
his
own
accord
—
vanished
in
the
night
,
sir
.
’
‘
No
matter
,
’
said
the
single
gentleman
angrily
.
‘
He
was
gone
.
’
‘
Yes
,
he
was
gone
,
’
said
Quilp
,
with
the
same
exasperating
composure
.
‘
No
doubt
he
was
gone
.
The
only
question
was
,
where
.
And
it
’
s
a
question
still
.
’
‘
Now
,
what
am
I
to
think
,
’
said
the
single
gentleman
,
sternly
regarding
him
,
‘
of
you
,
who
,
plainly
indisposed
to
give
me
any
information
then
—
nay
,
obviously
holding
back
,
and
sheltering
yourself
with
all
kinds
of
cunning
,
trickery
,
and
evasion
—
are
dogging
my
footsteps
now
?
’
‘
I
dogging
!
’
cried
Quilp
.
‘
Why
,
are
you
not
?
’
returned
his
questioner
,
fretted
into
a
state
of
the
utmost
irritation
.
‘
Were
you
not
a
few
hours
since
,
sixty
miles
off
,
and
in
the
chapel
to
which
this
good
woman
goes
to
say
her
prayers
?
’
‘
She
was
there
too
,
I
think
?
’
said
Quilp
,
still
perfectly
unmoved
.
‘
I
might
say
,
if
I
was
inclined
to
be
rude
,
how
do
I
know
but
you
are
dogging
my
footsteps
.
Yes
,
I
was
at
chapel
.
What
then
?
I
’
ve
read
in
books
that
pilgrims
were
used
to
go
to
chapel
before
they
went
on
journeys
,
to
put
up
petitions
for
their
safe
return
.
Wise
men
!
journeys
are
very
perilous
—
especially
outside
the
coach
.
Wheels
come
off
,
horses
take
fright
,
coachmen
drive
too
fast
,
coaches
overturn
.
I
always
go
to
chapel
before
I
start
on
journeys
.
It
’
s
the
last
thing
I
do
on
such
occasions
,
indeed
.
’
That
Quilp
lied
most
heartily
in
this
speech
,
it
needed
no
very
great
penetration
to
discover
,
although
for
anything
that
he
suffered
to
appear
in
his
face
,
voice
,
or
manner
,
he
might
have
been
clinging
to
the
truth
with
the
quiet
constancy
of
a
martyr
.
‘
In
the
name
of
all
that
’
s
calculated
to
drive
one
crazy
,
man
,
’
said
the
unfortunate
single
gentleman
,
‘
have
you
not
,
for
some
reason
of
your
own
,
taken
upon
yourself
my
errand
?
don
’
t
you
know
with
what
object
I
have
come
here
,
and
if
you
do
know
,
can
you
throw
no
light
upon
it
?
’
‘
You
think
I
’
m
a
conjuror
,
sir
,
’
replied
Quilp
,
shrugging
up
his
shoulders
.
‘
If
I
was
,
I
should
tell
my
own
fortune
—
and
make
it
.
’