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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Лавка древностей
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- Стр. 301/459
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‘
How
’
s
Dick
?
’
retorted
Quilp
.
‘
How
’
s
the
cream
of
clerkship
,
eh
?
’
‘
Why
,
rather
sour
,
sir
,
’
replied
Mr
Swiveller
.
‘
Beginning
to
border
upon
cheesiness
,
in
fact
.
’
‘
What
’
s
the
matter
?
’
said
the
dwarf
,
advancing
.
‘
Has
Sally
proved
unkind
.
“
Of
all
the
girls
that
are
so
smart
,
there
’
s
none
like
—
”
eh
,
Dick
!
’
‘
Certainly
not
,
’
replied
Mr
Swiveller
,
eating
his
dinner
with
great
gravity
,
‘
none
like
her
.
She
’
s
the
sphynx
of
private
life
,
is
Sally
B
.
’
‘
You
’
re
out
of
spirits
,
’
said
Quilp
,
drawing
up
a
chair
.
‘
What
’
s
the
matter
?
’
‘
The
law
don
’
t
agree
with
me
,
’
returned
Dick
.
‘
It
isn
’
t
moist
enough
,
and
there
’
s
too
much
confinement
.
I
have
been
thinking
of
running
away
.
’
‘
Bah
!
’
said
the
dwarf
.
‘
Where
would
you
run
to
,
Dick
?
’
‘
I
don
’
t
know
’
returned
Mr
Swiveller
.
‘
Towards
Highgate
,
I
suppose
.
Perhaps
the
bells
might
strike
up
“
Turn
again
Swiveller
,
Lord
Mayor
of
London
.
”
Whittington
’
s
name
was
Dick
.
I
wish
cats
were
scarcer
.
’
Quilp
looked
at
his
companion
with
his
eyes
screwed
up
into
a
comical
expression
of
curiosity
,
and
patiently
awaited
his
further
explanation
;
upon
which
,
however
,
Mr
Swiveller
appeared
in
no
hurry
to
enter
,
as
he
ate
a
very
long
dinner
in
profound
silence
,
finally
pushed
away
his
plate
,
threw
himself
back
into
his
chair
,
folded
his
arms
,
and
stared
ruefully
at
the
fire
,
in
which
some
ends
of
cigars
were
smoking
on
their
own
account
,
and
sending
up
a
fragrant
odour
.
