Тяжёлые времена

Hearing the Last of it

           Iavailedmyselfofyourobliginghintstocorrectmytimidity,anditisunnecessarytoaddthattheywereperfectlyaccurate.Mrs.Sparsit’stalentfor—infactforanythingrequiringaccuracy—withacombinationofstrengthofmind—andFamily—istoohabituallydevelopedtoadmitofanyquestion.’Hewasalmostfallingasleepoverthiscompliment;ittookhimsolongtogetthrough,andhismindwanderedsomuchinthecourseofitsexecution.

           ‘YoufoundMissGradgrind—IreallycannotcallherMrs.Bounderby;it’sveryabsurdofme—asyouthfulasIdescribedher?’askedMrs.Sparsit,sweetly.

           ‘Youdrewherportraitperfectly,’saidMr.Harthouse.‘Presentedherdeadimage.’

           ‘Veryengaging,sir,’saidMrs.Sparsit,causinghermittensslowlytorevolveoveroneanother.

           ‘Highlyso.’

           ‘Itusedtobeconsidered,’saidMrs.Sparsit,‘thatMissGradgrindwaswantinginanimation,butIconfesssheappearstomeconsiderablyandstrikinglyimprovedinthatrespect.Ay,andindeedhereisMr.Bounderby!’criedMrs.Sparsit,noddingherheadagreatmanytimes,asifshehadbeentalkingandthinkingofnooneelse.‘Howdoyoufindyourselfthismorning,sir?Prayletusseeyoucheerful,sir.’

           Now,thesepersistentassuagementsofhismisery,andlighteningsofhisload,hadbythistimebeguntohavetheeffectofmakingMr.BounderbysofterthanusualtowardsMrs.Sparsit,andharderthanusualtomostotherpeoplefromhiswifedownward.So,whenMrs.

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