Холодный дом

Quite at Home

           Jarndyce,whowasveryfondofthegameandfromwhomIwishedofcoursetolearnitasquicklyasIcouldinorderthatImightbeoftheverysmalluseofbeingabletoplaywhenhehadnobetteradversary.ButIthought,occasionally,whenMr.Skimpoleplayedsomefragmentsofhisowncompositionsorwhen,bothatthepianoandthevioloncello,andatourtable,hepreservedwithanabsenceofallefforthisdelightfulspiritsandhiseasyflowofconversation,thatRichardandIseemedtoretainthetransferredimpressionofhavingbeenarrestedsincedinnerandthatitwasverycuriousaltogether.Itwaslatebeforeweseparated,forwhenAdawasgoingateleveno’clock,Mr.Skimpolewenttothepianoandrattledhilariouslythatthebestofallwaystolengthenourdayswastostealafewhoursfromnight,mydear!Itwaspasttwelvebeforehetookhiscandleandhisradiantfaceoutoftheroom,andIthinkhemighthavekeptusthere,ifhehadseenfit,untildaybreak.AdaandRichardwerelingeringforafewmomentsbythefire,wonderingwhetherMrs.Jellybyhadyetfinishedherdictationfortheday,whenMr.Jarndyce,whohadbeenoutoftheroom,returned."Oh,dearme,what’sthis,what’sthis!"hesaid,rubbinghisheadandwalkingaboutwithhisgood-humouredvexation."What’sthistheytellme?Rick,myboy,Esther,mydear,whathaveyoubeendoing?Whydidyoudoit?Howcouldyoudoit?Howmuchapiecewasit?Thewind’sroundagain.Ifeelitalloverme!"Weneitherofusquiteknewwhattoanswer."Come,Rick,come!ImustsettlethisbeforeIsleep.

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