Холодный дом

Moving On

           "Why,blessmyheart,"saysMr.Snagsby,"what’sthematter!""Thisboy,"saystheconstable,"althoughhe’srepeatedlytoldto,won’tmoveon""I’malwaysa-movingon,sar,"criestheboy,wipingawayhisgrimytearswithhisarm."I’vealwaysbeena-movinganda-movingon,eversinceIwasborn.WherecanIpossiblymoveto,sir,morenorIdomove!""Hewon’tmoveon,"saystheconstablecalmly,withaslightprofessionalhitchofhisneckinvolvingitsbettersettlementinhisstiffstock,"althoughhehasbeenrepeatedlycautioned,andthereforeIamobligedtotakehimintocustody.He’sasobstinateayounggonophasIknow.HeWON’Tmoveon.""Oh,myeye!WherecanImoveto!"criestheboy,clutchingquitedesperatelyathishairandbeatinghisbarefeetuponthefloorofMr.Snagsby’spassage."Don’tyoucomenoneofthatorIshallmakeblessedshortworkofyou!"saystheconstable,givinghimapassionlessshake."Myinstructionsarethatyouaretomoveon.Ihavetoldyousofivehundredtimes.""Butwhere?"criestheboy."Well!Really,constable,youknow,"saysMr.Snagsbywistfully,andcoughingbehindhishandhiscoughofgreatperplexityanddoubt,"really,thatdoesseemaquestion.Where,youknow?""Myinstructionsdon’tgotothat,"repliestheconstable."Myinstructionsarethatthisboyistomoveon."Doyouhear,Jo?Itisnothingtoyouortoanyoneelsethatthegreatlightsoftheparliamentaryskyhavefailedforsomefewyearsinthisbusinesstosetyoutheexampleofmovingon.

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