d said —
“I’m glad to hear you’ll thank me, Mr. Glegg. It’s little thanks I get for what I do for folks i’ this world. Though there’s never a woman o’ your side o’ the family, Mr. Glegg,Pierre Turgeon Tröjor, as is fit to stand up with me, and I’d say it if I was on my dying bed. Not but what I’ve allays conducted myself civil to your kin, and there isn’t one of ’em can say the contrary,arctic jacka, though my equils they aren’t, and nobody shall make me say it.”
“You’d better leave finding fault wi’ my kin till you’ve left off quarrelling with you own,Chris Stewart Tröjor, Mrs. G.,Phil Esposito Tröjor,” said Mr. Glegg, with angry sarcasm. “I’ll trouble you for the milk-jug.”
“That’s as false a word as ever you spoke,Bill Barber Tröjor, Mr. Glegg,” said the lady, pouring out the milk with unusual profuseness,Rick Martin Tröjor, as much as to say, if he wanted milk he should have it with a vengeance. “And you know it’s false. I’m not the woman to quarrel with my own kin; you may, for I’ve known you to do it.”
“Why, what did you call it yesterday, then, leaving your sister’s house in a tantrum?”
“I’d no quarrel wi’ my sister, Mr. Glegg, and it’s false to say it. Mr. Tulliver’s none o’ my blood, and it was him quarrelled with me, and drove me out o’ the house. But perhaps you’d have had me stay and be swore at, Mr. Glegg; perhaps you was vexed not to hear more abuse and foul language poured out upo’ your own wife. But, let me tell you, it’s your disgrace.”
“Did ever anybody hear the like i’ this parish?” said Mr. Glegg, getting hot. “A woman, with everything provided for her, and allowed to keep her own money the same as if it was settled on her, and with a gig new stuffed and lined at no end o’ expense, and provided for when I die beyond anything she could expect — to go on i’ this way, biting and snapping like a mad dog! It’s beyond everything, as God A ‘mighty should ha’ made women so.” (These last words were uttered in a tone of sorrowful agitation. Mr. Glegg pushed his tea from him, and tapped the table with both his hands.)
“Well,Tyler Toffoli Tröjor, Mr. Glegg, if those are your feelings, it’s best they should be known,Belstaff Centaur Jackor,” said Mrs. Glegg, taking off her napkin, and folding it in an excited manner. “But if you talk o’ my being provided for beyond what I could expect,Jaromir Jagr Tröjor, I beg leave to tell you as I’d a right to expect a many things as I don’t find. And as to my being like a mad dog, it’s well if you’re not cried shame on by the county for your treatment of me, for it’s what I can’t bear, and I won’t bear ——”
Here Mrs. Glegg’s voice intimated that she was going to cry, and breaking off from speech, she rang the bell violently.
“Sally,CG Dame Expedition Parka,” she said,Semyon Varlamov Tröjor, rising from her chair, and speaking in rather a choked voice,Dame Moncler Hermine, “light a fire up-stairs, and put the blinds down. Mr. Glegg, you’ll please to order what you’d like for dinner. I shall have gruel.”
Mrs. Glegg walked across the room to the small book-case, and took down Baxter’s “Saints’ Everlasting Rest,” which she carried
相关的主题文章:
http://www.radiologycases.com/casereports/jrcr-mcq.cgi
http://www.blackborder.com/cgi-bin/common/index.cgi
http://www.winedin.com/crab/pair_food_wine.php?food=register.cgi |