Тяжёлые времена

Mr. Bounderby

           ‘Iwasdetermined,Isuppose.Ihavebeenadeterminedcharacterinlaterlife,andIsupposeIwasthen.HereIam,Mrs.Gradgrind,anyhow,andnobodytothankformybeinghere,butmyself.’

           Mrs.Gradgrindmeeklyandweaklyhopedthathismother

           ‘Mymother?Bolted,ma’am!’saidBounderby.

           Mrs.Gradgrind,stunnedasusual,collapsedandgaveitup.

           ‘Mymotherleftmetomygrandmother,’saidBounderby;‘and,accordingtothebestofmyremembrance,mygrandmotherwasthewickedestandtheworstoldwomanthateverlived.IfIgotalittlepairofshoesbyanychance,shewouldtake’emoffandsell’emfordrink.Why,Ihaveknownthatgrandmotherofminelieinherbedanddrinkherfour-teenglassesofliquorbeforebreakfast!’

           Mrs.Gradgrind,weaklysmiling,andgivingnoothersignofvitality,looked(asshealwaysdid)likeanindifferentlyexecutedtransparencyofasmallfemalefigure,withoutenoughlightbehindit.

           ‘Shekeptachandler’sshop,’pursuedBounderby,‘andkeptmeinanegg-box.Thatwasthecotofmyinfancy;anoldegg-box.AssoonasIwasbigenoughtorunaway,ofcourseIranaway.ThenIbecameayoungvagabond;andinsteadofoneoldwomanknockingmeaboutandstarvingme,everybodyofallagesknockedmeaboutandstarvedme.Theywereright;theyhadnobusinesstodoanythingelse.Iwasanuisance,anincumbrance,andapest.Iknowthatverywell.

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