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- Роберт Льюис Стивенсон
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- Стр. 166/166
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Neither
one
of
us
looked
the
other
in
the
face
,
nor
so
long
as
he
was
in
my
view
did
I
take
one
back
glance
at
the
friend
I
was
leaving
.
But
as
I
went
on
my
way
to
the
city
,
I
felt
so
lost
and
lonesome
,
that
I
could
have
found
it
in
my
heart
to
sit
down
by
the
dyke
,
and
cry
and
weep
like
any
baby
.
It
was
coming
near
noon
when
I
passed
in
by
the
West
Kirk
and
the
Grassmarket
into
the
streets
of
the
capital
.
The
huge
height
of
the
buildings
,
running
up
to
ten
and
fifteen
storeys
,
the
narrow
arched
entries
that
continually
vomited
passengers
,
the
wares
of
the
merchants
in
their
windows
,
the
hubbub
and
endless
stir
,
the
foul
smells
and
the
fine
clothes
,
and
a
hundred
other
particulars
too
small
to
mention
,
struck
me
into
a
kind
of
stupor
of
surprise
,
so
that
I
let
the
crowd
carry
me
to
and
fro
;
and
yet
all
the
time
what
I
was
thinking
of
was
Alan
at
Rest-and-be-Thankful
;
and
all
the
time
(
although
you
would
think
I
would
not
choose
but
be
delighted
with
these
braws
and
novelties
)
there
was
a
cold
gnawing
in
my
inside
like
a
remorse
for
something
wrong
.
The
hand
of
Providence
brought
me
in
my
drifting
to
the
very
doors
of
the
British
Linen
Company
's
bank
.