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"Sir," | Stephen Blackpool | we will, I tell you!"<|quote|>"Sir,"</|quote|>returned Stephen, with the quiet | time blowing a hurricane, "because we will, I tell you!"<|quote|>"Sir,"</|quote|>returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty, "if | "We will make an example of half a dozen Slackbridges. We'll indict the blackguards for felony, and get 'em shipped off to penal settlements." Stephen gravely shook his head. "Don't tell me we won't, man," said Mr. Bounderby, by this time blowing a hurricane, "because we will, I tell you!"<|quote|>"Sir,"</|quote|>retur... | to 't. 'Tis not me as should be looken to for that, sir. 'Tis them as is put ower me, and ower aw the rest of us. What do they tak upon themseln, sir, if not to do't?" "I'll tell you something towards it, at any rate," returned Mr. Bounderby. "We will make an example of half a dozen Slackbridges. We'll indict the black... | 'bout us, and how yo are awlus right, and how we are awlus wrong, and never had'n no reason in us sin ever we were born. Look how this ha growen an' growen, sir, bigger an' bigger, broader an' broader, harder an' harder, fro year to year, fro generation unto generation. Who can look on 't, sir, and fairly tell a man 't... | what do you complain of?" asked Mr. Bounderby. "I ha' not coom here, sir," Stephen reminded him, "to complain. I coom for that I were sent for." "What," repeated Mr. Bounderby, folding his arms, "do you people, in a general way, complain of?" Stephen looked at him with some little irresolution for a moment, and then se... | he was faithful to his class under all their mistrust; but he fully remembered where he was, and did not even raise his voice. "No, ma'am, no. They're true to one another, faithfo' to one another, 'fectionate to one another, e'en to death. Be poor amoong 'em, be sick amoong 'em, grieve amoong 'em for onny o' th' monny ... | ony dis'ant object ceptin awlus, Death. Look how you considers of us, and writes of us, and talks of us, and goes up wi' yor deputations to Secretaries o' State 'bout us, and how yo are awlus right, and how we are awlus wrong, and never had'n no reason in us sin ever we were born. Look how this ha growen an' growen, si... | Hard Times |
returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty, | No speaker | will, I tell you!" "Sir,"<|quote|>returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty,</|quote|>"if yo was t' tak | blowing a hurricane, "because we will, I tell you!" "Sir,"<|quote|>returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty,</|quote|>"if yo was t' tak a hundred Slackbridges aw as | will make an example of half a dozen Slackbridges. We'll indict the blackguards for felony, and get 'em shipped off to penal settlements." Stephen gravely shook his head. "Don't tell me we won't, man," said Mr. Bounderby, by this time blowing a hurricane, "because we will, I tell you!" "Sir,"<|quote|>returned Stephen, ... | 't. 'Tis not me as should be looken to for that, sir. 'Tis them as is put ower me, and ower aw the rest of us. What do they tak upon themseln, sir, if not to do't?" "I'll tell you something towards it, at any rate," returned Mr. Bounderby. "We will make an example of half a dozen Slackbridges. We'll indict the blackgua... | us, and how yo are awlus right, and how we are awlus wrong, and never had'n no reason in us sin ever we were born. Look how this ha growen an' growen, sir, bigger an' bigger, broader an' broader, harder an' harder, fro year to year, fro generation unto generation. Who can look on 't, sir, and fairly tell a man 'tis not... | do you complain of?" asked Mr. Bounderby. "I ha' not coom here, sir," Stephen reminded him, "to complain. I coom for that I were sent for." "What," repeated Mr. Bounderby, folding his arms, "do you people, in a general way, complain of?" Stephen looked at him with some little irresolution for a moment, and then seemed ... | was faithful to his class under all their mistrust; but he fully remembered where he was, and did not even raise his voice. "No, ma'am, no. They're true to one another, faithfo' to one another, 'fectionate to one another, e'en to death. Be poor amoong 'em, be sick amoong 'em, grieve amoong 'em for onny o' th' monny cau... | said just now, that you had nothing to tell us about this business. You are quite sure of that before we go any further." "Sir, I am sure on 't." "Here's a gentleman from London present," Mr. Bounderby made a backhanded point at Mr. James Harthouse with his thumb, "a Parliament gentleman. I should like him to hear a sh... | Hard Times |
"if yo was t' tak a hundred Slackbridges aw as there is, and aw the number ten times towd an' was t' sew 'em up in separate sacks, an' sink 'em in the deepest ocean as were made ere ever dry land coom to be, yo'd leave the muddle just wheer 'tis. Mischeevous strangers!" | Stephen Blackpool | quiet confidence of absolute certainty,<|quote|>"if yo was t' tak a hundred Slackbridges aw as there is, and aw the number ten times towd an' was t' sew 'em up in separate sacks, an' sink 'em in the deepest ocean as were made ere ever dry land coom to be, yo'd leave the muddle just wheer 'tis. Mischeevous strangers!"</... | "Sir," returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty,<|quote|>"if yo was t' tak a hundred Slackbridges aw as there is, and aw the number ten times towd an' was t' sew 'em up in separate sacks, an' sink 'em in the deepest ocean as were made ere ever dry land coom to be, yo'd leave the muddle just whe... | We'll indict the blackguards for felony, and get 'em shipped off to penal settlements." Stephen gravely shook his head. "Don't tell me we won't, man," said Mr. Bounderby, by this time blowing a hurricane, "because we will, I tell you!" "Sir," returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty,<|quote|>"i... | for that, sir. 'Tis them as is put ower me, and ower aw the rest of us. What do they tak upon themseln, sir, if not to do't?" "I'll tell you something towards it, at any rate," returned Mr. Bounderby. "We will make an example of half a dozen Slackbridges. We'll indict the blackguards for felony, and get 'em shipped off... | we are awlus wrong, and never had'n no reason in us sin ever we were born. Look how this ha growen an' growen, sir, bigger an' bigger, broader an' broader, harder an' harder, fro year to year, fro generation unto generation. Who can look on 't, sir, and fairly tell a man 'tis not a muddle?" "Of course," said Mr. Bounde... | not coom here, sir," Stephen reminded him, "to complain. I coom for that I were sent for." "What," repeated Mr. Bounderby, folding his arms, "do you people, in a general way, complain of?" Stephen looked at him with some little irresolution for a moment, and then seemed to make up his mind. "Sir, I were never good at s... | but he fully remembered where he was, and did not even raise his voice. "No, ma'am, no. They're true to one another, faithfo' to one another, 'fectionate to one another, e'en to death. Be poor amoong 'em, be sick amoong 'em, grieve amoong 'em for onny o' th' monny causes that carries grief to the poor man's door, an' t... | sir. Look round town so rich as 'tis and see the numbers o' people as has been broughten into bein heer, fur to weave, an' to card, an' to piece out a livin', aw the same one way, somehows, 'twixt their cradles and their graves. Look how we live, an' wheer we live, an' in what numbers, an' by what chances, and wi' what... | Hard Times |
said Stephen, with an anxious smile; | No speaker | just wheer 'tis. Mischeevous strangers!"<|quote|>said Stephen, with an anxious smile;</|quote|>"when ha we not heern, | be, yo'd leave the muddle just wheer 'tis. Mischeevous strangers!"<|quote|>said Stephen, with an anxious smile;</|quote|>"when ha we not heern, I am sure, sin ever | tak a hundred Slackbridges aw as there is, and aw the number ten times towd an' was t' sew 'em up in separate sacks, an' sink 'em in the deepest ocean as were made ere ever dry land coom to be, yo'd leave the muddle just wheer 'tis. Mischeevous strangers!"<|quote|>said Stephen, with an anxious smile;</|quote|>"when ha ... | for felony, and get 'em shipped off to penal settlements." Stephen gravely shook his head. "Don't tell me we won't, man," said Mr. Bounderby, by this time blowing a hurricane, "because we will, I tell you!" "Sir," returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty, "if yo was t' tak a hundred Slackbridge... | a muddle?" "Of course," said Mr. Bounderby. "Now perhaps you'll let the gentleman know, how you would set this muddle (as you're so fond of calling it) to rights." "I donno, sir. I canna be expecten to 't. 'Tis not me as should be looken to for that, sir. 'Tis them as is put ower me, and ower aw the rest of us. What do... | were never good at showin o 't, though I ha had'n my share in feeling o 't. 'Deed we are in a muddle, sir. Look round town so rich as 'tis and see the numbers o' people as has been broughten into bein heer, fur to weave, an' to card, an' to piece out a livin', aw the same one way, somehows, 'twixt their cradles and the... | the poor man's door, an' they'll be tender wi' yo, gentle wi' yo, comfortable wi' yo, Chrisen wi' yo. Be sure o' that, ma'am. They'd be riven to bits, ere ever they'd be different." "In short," said Mr. Bounderby, "it's because they are so full of virtues that they have turned you adrift. Go through with it while you a... | the mills is awlus a goin, and how they never works us no nigher to ony dis'ant object ceptin awlus, Death. Look how you considers of us, and writes of us, and talks of us, and goes up wi' yor deputations to Secretaries o' State 'bout us, and how yo are awlus right, and how we are awlus wrong, and never had'n no reason... | Hard Times |
"when ha we not heern, I am sure, sin ever we can call to mind, o' th' mischeevous strangers! 'Tis not by _them_ the trouble's made, sir. 'Tis not wi' _them_ 't commences. I ha no favour for 'em I ha no reason to favour 'em but 'tis hopeless and useless to dream o' takin them fro their trade, 'stead o' takin their trad... | Stephen Blackpool | Stephen, with an anxious smile;<|quote|>"when ha we not heern, I am sure, sin ever we can call to mind, o' th' mischeevous strangers! 'Tis not by _them_ the trouble's made, sir. 'Tis not wi' _them_ 't commences. I ha no favour for 'em I ha no reason to favour 'em but 'tis hopeless and useless to dream o' takin them fro... | wheer 'tis. Mischeevous strangers!" said Stephen, with an anxious smile;<|quote|>"when ha we not heern, I am sure, sin ever we can call to mind, o' th' mischeevous strangers! 'Tis not by _them_ the trouble's made, sir. 'Tis not wi' _them_ 't commences. I ha no favour for 'em I ha no reason to favour 'em but 'tis hopele... | there is, and aw the number ten times towd an' was t' sew 'em up in separate sacks, an' sink 'em in the deepest ocean as were made ere ever dry land coom to be, yo'd leave the muddle just wheer 'tis. Mischeevous strangers!" said Stephen, with an anxious smile;<|quote|>"when ha we not heern, I am sure, sin ever we can c... | off to penal settlements." Stephen gravely shook his head. "Don't tell me we won't, man," said Mr. Bounderby, by this time blowing a hurricane, "because we will, I tell you!" "Sir," returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty, "if yo was t' tak a hundred Slackbridges aw as there is, and aw the num... | Bounderby. "Now perhaps you'll let the gentleman know, how you would set this muddle (as you're so fond of calling it) to rights." "I donno, sir. I canna be expecten to 't. 'Tis not me as should be looken to for that, sir. 'Tis them as is put ower me, and ower aw the rest of us. What do they tak upon themseln, sir, if ... | 't, though I ha had'n my share in feeling o 't. 'Deed we are in a muddle, sir. Look round town so rich as 'tis and see the numbers o' people as has been broughten into bein heer, fur to weave, an' to card, an' to piece out a livin', aw the same one way, somehows, 'twixt their cradles and their graves. Look how we live,... | be tender wi' yo, gentle wi' yo, comfortable wi' yo, Chrisen wi' yo. Be sure o' that, ma'am. They'd be riven to bits, ere ever they'd be different." "In short," said Mr. Bounderby, "it's because they are so full of virtues that they have turned you adrift. Go through with it while you are about it. Out with it." "How '... | us, and goes up wi' yor deputations to Secretaries o' State 'bout us, and how yo are awlus right, and how we are awlus wrong, and never had'n no reason in us sin ever we were born. Look how this ha growen an' growen, sir, bigger an' bigger, broader an' broader, harder an' harder, fro year to year, fro generation unto g... | Hard Times |
Reverting for a moment to his former refuge, he observed a cautionary movement of her eyes towards the door. Stepping back, he put his hand upon the lock. But he had not spoken out of his own will and desire; and he felt it in his heart a noble return for his late injurious treatment to be faithful to the last to those... | No speaker | 'tis wi' Slackbridge every bit."<|quote|>Reverting for a moment to his former refuge, he observed a cautionary movement of her eyes towards the door. Stepping back, he put his hand upon the lock. But he had not spoken out of his own will and desire; and he felt it in his heart a noble return for his late injurious trea... | on just the same. So 'tis wi' Slackbridge every bit."<|quote|>Reverting for a moment to his former refuge, he observed a cautionary movement of her eyes towards the door. Stepping back, he put his hand upon the lock. But he had not spoken out of his own will and desire; and he felt it in his heart a noble return for hi... | them! Aw that's now about me in this room were heer afore I coom, an' will be heer when I am gone. Put that clock aboard a ship an' pack it off to Norfolk Island, an' the time will go on just the same. So 'tis wi' Slackbridge every bit."<|quote|>Reverting for a moment to his former refuge, he observed a cautionary move... | o' th' mischeevous strangers! 'Tis not by _them_ the trouble's made, sir. 'Tis not wi' _them_ 't commences. I ha no favour for 'em I ha no reason to favour 'em but 'tis hopeless and useless to dream o' takin them fro their trade, 'stead o' takin their trade fro them! Aw that's now about me in this room were heer afore ... | said Mr. Bounderby, by this time blowing a hurricane, "because we will, I tell you!" "Sir," returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty, "if yo was t' tak a hundred Slackbridges aw as there is, and aw the number ten times towd an' was t' sew 'em up in separate sacks, an' sink 'em in the deepest oc... | us, and talks of us, and goes up wi' yor deputations to Secretaries o' State 'bout us, and how yo are awlus right, and how we are awlus wrong, and never had'n no reason in us sin ever we were born. Look how this ha growen an' growen, sir, bigger an' bigger, broader an' broader, harder an' harder, fro year to year, fro ... | wants in general to do right. An' I canna think the fawt is aw wi' us." "Now, my friend," said Mr. Bounderby, whom he could not have exasperated more, quite unconscious of it though he was, than by seeming to appeal to any one else, "if you will favour me with your attention for half a minute, I should like to have a w... | Mr. Bounderby. "Now perhaps you'll let the gentleman know, how you would set this muddle (as you're so fond of calling it) to rights." "I donno, sir. I canna be expecten to 't. 'Tis not me as should be looken to for that, sir. 'Tis them as is put ower me, and ower aw the rest of us. What do they tak upon themseln, sir,... | Hard Times |
"Sir, I canna, wi' my little learning an' my common way, tell the genelman what will better aw this though some working men o' this town could, above my powers but I can tell him what I know will never do 't. The strong hand will never do 't. Vict'ry and triumph will never do 't. Agreeing fur to mak one side unnat'rall... | Stephen Blackpool | what was in his mind.<|quote|>"Sir, I canna, wi' my little learning an' my common way, tell the genelman what will better aw this though some working men o' this town could, above my powers but I can tell him what I know will never do 't. The strong hand will never do 't. Vict'ry and triumph will never do 't. Agreeing ... | him. He stayed to finish what was in his mind.<|quote|>"Sir, I canna, wi' my little learning an' my common way, tell the genelman what will better aw this though some working men o' this town could, above my powers but I can tell him what I know will never do 't. The strong hand will never do 't. Vict'ry and triumph wi... | the lock. But he had not spoken out of his own will and desire; and he felt it in his heart a noble return for his late injurious treatment to be faithful to the last to those who had repudiated him. He stayed to finish what was in his mind.<|quote|>"Sir, I canna, wi' my little learning an' my common way, tell the gene... | a ship an' pack it off to Norfolk Island, an' the time will go on just the same. So 'tis wi' Slackbridge every bit." Reverting for a moment to his former refuge, he observed a cautionary movement of her eyes towards the door. Stepping back, he put his hand upon the lock. But he had not spoken out of his own will and de... | 'tis. Mischeevous strangers!" said Stephen, with an anxious smile; "when ha we not heern, I am sure, sin ever we can call to mind, o' th' mischeevous strangers! 'Tis not by _them_ the trouble's made, sir. 'Tis not wi' _them_ 't commences. I ha no favour for 'em I ha no reason to favour 'em but 'tis hopeless and useless... | man 'tis not a muddle?" "Of course," said Mr. Bounderby. "Now perhaps you'll let the gentleman know, how you would set this muddle (as you're so fond of calling it) to rights." "I donno, sir. I canna be expecten to 't. 'Tis not me as should be looken to for that, sir. 'Tis them as is put ower me, and ower aw the rest o... | to tell us about this business. You are quite sure of that before we go any further." "Sir, I am sure on 't." "Here's a gentleman from London present," Mr. Bounderby made a backhanded point at Mr. James Harthouse with his thumb, "a Parliament gentleman. I should like him to hear a short bit of dialogue between you and ... | piece out a livin', aw the same one way, somehows, 'twixt their cradles and their graves. Look how we live, an' wheer we live, an' in what numbers, an' by what chances, and wi' what sameness; and look how the mills is awlus a goin, and how they never works us no nigher to ony dis'ant object ceptin awlus, Death. Look ho... | Hard Times |
Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him. | No speaker | till God's work is onmade."<|quote|>Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him.</|quote|>"Just stop a moment," said | will never do 't, sir, till God's work is onmade."<|quote|>Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him.</|quote|>"Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in | weary and souls to hope when aw goes quiet, draggin on wi' 'em as if they'd nowt o' th' kind, and when aw goes onquiet, reproachin 'em for their want o' sitch humanly feelins in their dealins wi' yo this will never do 't, sir, till God's work is onmade."<|quote|>Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to ... | seen in aw his travels can beat will never do 't till th' Sun turns t' ice. Most o' aw, rating 'em as so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as if they was figures in a soom, or machines: wi'out loves and likens, wi'out memories and inclinations, wi'out souls to weary and souls to hope when aw goes quiet, draggin on wi' 'em ... | lettin alone will never do 't. Let thousands upon thousands alone, aw leading the like lives and aw faw'en into the like muddle, and they will be as one, and yo will be as anoother, wi' a black unpassable world betwixt yo, just as long or short a time as sich-like misery can last. Not drawin nigh to fok, wi' kindness a... | heer afore I coom, an' will be heer when I am gone. Put that clock aboard a ship an' pack it off to Norfolk Island, an' the time will go on just the same. So 'tis wi' Slackbridge every bit." Reverting for a moment to his former refuge, he observed a cautionary movement of her eyes towards the door. Stepping back, he pu... | by what chances, and wi' what sameness; and look how the mills is awlus a goin, and how they never works us no nigher to ony dis'ant object ceptin awlus, Death. Look how you considers of us, and writes of us, and talks of us, and goes up wi' yor deputations to Secretaries o' State 'bout us, and how yo are awlus right, ... | tak a hundred Slackbridges aw as there is, and aw the number ten times towd an' was t' sew 'em up in separate sacks, an' sink 'em in the deepest ocean as were made ere ever dry land coom to be, yo'd leave the muddle just wheer 'tis. Mischeevous strangers!" said Stephen, with an anxious smile; "when ha we not heern, I a... | Hard Times |
"Just stop a moment," | Josiah Bounderby | more were expected of him.<|quote|>"Just stop a moment,"</|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red | waiting to know if anything more were expected of him.<|quote|>"Just stop a moment,"</|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told | kind, and when aw goes onquiet, reproachin 'em for their want o' sitch humanly feelins in their dealins wi' yo this will never do 't, sir, till God's work is onmade." Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him.<|quote|>"Just stop a moment,"</|quote|>said Mr. Boun... | aw, rating 'em as so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as if they was figures in a soom, or machines: wi'out loves and likens, wi'out memories and inclinations, wi'out souls to weary and souls to hope when aw goes quiet, draggin on wi' 'em as if they'd nowt o' th' kind, and when aw goes onquiet, reproachin 'em for their wa... | into the like muddle, and they will be as one, and yo will be as anoother, wi' a black unpassable world betwixt yo, just as long or short a time as sich-like misery can last. Not drawin nigh to fok, wi' kindness and patience an' cheery ways, that so draws nigh to one another in their monny troubles, and so cherishes on... | pack it off to Norfolk Island, an' the time will go on just the same. So 'tis wi' Slackbridge every bit." Reverting for a moment to his former refuge, he observed a cautionary movement of her eyes towards the door. Stepping back, he put his hand upon the lock. But he had not spoken out of his own will and desire; and h... | never works us no nigher to ony dis'ant object ceptin awlus, Death. Look how you considers of us, and writes of us, and talks of us, and goes up wi' yor deputations to Secretaries o' State 'bout us, and how yo are awlus right, and how we are awlus wrong, and never had'n no reason in us sin ever we were born. Look how t... | Bounderby, by this time blowing a hurricane, "because we will, I tell you!" "Sir," returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty, "if yo was t' tak a hundred Slackbridges aw as there is, and aw the number ten times towd an' was t' sew 'em up in separate sacks, an' sink 'em in the deepest ocean as we... | Hard Times |
said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. | No speaker | him. "Just stop a moment,"<|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face.</|quote|>"I told you, the last | anything more were expected of him. "Just stop a moment,"<|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face.</|quote|>"I told you, the last time you were here with | goes onquiet, reproachin 'em for their want o' sitch humanly feelins in their dealins wi' yo this will never do 't, sir, till God's work is onmade." Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him. "Just stop a moment,"<|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in t... | so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as if they was figures in a soom, or machines: wi'out loves and likens, wi'out memories and inclinations, wi'out souls to weary and souls to hope when aw goes quiet, draggin on wi' 'em as if they'd nowt o' th' kind, and when aw goes onquiet, reproachin 'em for their want o' sitch humanl... | and they will be as one, and yo will be as anoother, wi' a black unpassable world betwixt yo, just as long or short a time as sich-like misery can last. Not drawin nigh to fok, wi' kindness and patience an' cheery ways, that so draws nigh to one another in their monny troubles, and so cherishes one another in their dis... | Norfolk Island, an' the time will go on just the same. So 'tis wi' Slackbridge every bit." Reverting for a moment to his former refuge, he observed a cautionary movement of her eyes towards the door. Stepping back, he put his hand upon the lock. But he had not spoken out of his own will and desire; and he felt it in hi... | nigher to ony dis'ant object ceptin awlus, Death. Look how you considers of us, and writes of us, and talks of us, and goes up wi' yor deputations to Secretaries o' State 'bout us, and how yo are awlus right, and how we are awlus wrong, and never had'n no reason in us sin ever we were born. Look how this ha growen an' ... | in his mind. "Sir, I canna, wi' my little learning an' my common way, tell the genelman what will better aw this though some working men o' this town could, above my powers but I can tell him what I know will never do 't. The strong hand will never do 't. Vict'ry and triumph will never do 't. Agreeing fur to mak one si... | Hard Times |
"I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." | Josiah Bounderby | excessively red in the face.<|quote|>"I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out."</|quote|>"I were not up to | a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face.<|quote|>"I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out."</|quote|>"I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do | sitch humanly feelins in their dealins wi' yo this will never do 't, sir, till God's work is onmade." Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him. "Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face.<|quote|>"I told you, the last time you were he... | they was figures in a soom, or machines: wi'out loves and likens, wi'out memories and inclinations, wi'out souls to weary and souls to hope when aw goes quiet, draggin on wi' 'em as if they'd nowt o' th' kind, and when aw goes onquiet, reproachin 'em for their want o' sitch humanly feelins in their dealins wi' yo this ... | will be as anoother, wi' a black unpassable world betwixt yo, just as long or short a time as sich-like misery can last. Not drawin nigh to fok, wi' kindness and patience an' cheery ways, that so draws nigh to one another in their monny troubles, and so cherishes one another in their distresses wi' what they need thems... | just the same. So 'tis wi' Slackbridge every bit." Reverting for a moment to his former refuge, he observed a cautionary movement of her eyes towards the door. Stepping back, he put his hand upon the lock. But he had not spoken out of his own will and desire; and he felt it in his heart a noble return for his late inju... | Look how you considers of us, and writes of us, and talks of us, and goes up wi' yor deputations to Secretaries o' State 'bout us, and how yo are awlus right, and how we are awlus wrong, and never had'n no reason in us sin ever we were born. Look how this ha growen an' growen, sir, bigger an' bigger, broader an' broade... | tell me we won't, man," said Mr. Bounderby, by this time blowing a hurricane, "because we will, I tell you!" "Sir," returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty, "if yo was t' tak a hundred Slackbridges aw as there is, and aw the number ten times towd an' was t' sew 'em up in separate sacks, an' si... | Hard Times |
"I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." | Stephen Blackpool | to the gold spoon look-out."<|quote|>"I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo."</|quote|>"Now it's clear to me," | remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out."<|quote|>"I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo."</|quote|>"Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you | a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out."<|quote|>"I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo."</|quote|... | when aw goes onquiet, reproachin 'em for their want o' sitch humanly feelins in their dealins wi' yo this will never do 't, sir, till God's work is onmade." Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him. "Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in t... | one another in their monny troubles, and so cherishes one another in their distresses wi' what they need themseln like, I humbly believe, as no people the genelman ha seen in aw his travels can beat will never do 't till th' Sun turns t' ice. Most o' aw, rating 'em as so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as if they was fig... | not spoken out of his own will and desire; and he felt it in his heart a noble return for his late injurious treatment to be faithful to the last to those who had repudiated him. He stayed to finish what was in his mind. "Sir, I canna, wi' my little learning an' my common way, tell the genelman what will better aw this... | had'n no reason in us sin ever we were born. Look how this ha growen an' growen, sir, bigger an' bigger, broader an' broader, harder an' harder, fro year to year, fro generation unto generation. Who can look on 't, sir, and fairly tell a man 'tis not a muddle?" "Of course," said Mr. Bounderby. "Now perhaps you'll let t... | no reason to favour 'em but 'tis hopeless and useless to dream o' takin them fro their trade, 'stead o' takin their trade fro them! Aw that's now about me in this room were heer afore I coom, an' will be heer when I am gone. Put that clock aboard a ship an' pack it off to Norfolk Island, an' the time will go on just th... | Hard Times |
"Now it's clear to me," | Josiah Bounderby | sir; I do assure yo."<|quote|>"Now it's clear to me,"</|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby, "that you | not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo."<|quote|>"Now it's clear to me,"</|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps | you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo."<|quote|>"Now it's clear to me,"</|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of th... | feelins in their dealins wi' yo this will never do 't, sir, till God's work is onmade." Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him. "Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, t... | their distresses wi' what they need themseln like, I humbly believe, as no people the genelman ha seen in aw his travels can beat will never do 't till th' Sun turns t' ice. Most o' aw, rating 'em as so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as if they was figures in a soom, or machines: wi'out loves and likens, wi'out memories... | it in his heart a noble return for his late injurious treatment to be faithful to the last to those who had repudiated him. He stayed to finish what was in his mind. "Sir, I canna, wi' my little learning an' my common way, tell the genelman what will better aw this though some working men o' this town could, above my p... | this ha growen an' growen, sir, bigger an' bigger, broader an' broader, harder an' harder, fro year to year, fro generation unto generation. Who can look on 't, sir, and fairly tell a man 'tis not a muddle?" "Of course," said Mr. Bounderby. "Now perhaps you'll let the gentleman know, how you would set this muddle (as y... | upon the lock. But he had not spoken out of his own will and desire; and he felt it in his heart a noble return for his late injurious treatment to be faithful to the last to those who had repudiated him. He stayed to finish what was in his mind. "Sir, I canna, wi' my little learning an' my common way, tell the genelma... | Hard Times |
said Mr. Bounderby, | No speaker | "Now it's clear to me,"<|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby,</|quote|>"that you are one of | sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me,"<|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby,</|quote|>"that you are one of those chaps who have always | were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me,"<|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby,</|quote|>"that you are one of those chaps who have alwa... | yo this will never do 't, sir, till God's work is onmade." Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him. "Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about... | need themseln like, I humbly believe, as no people the genelman ha seen in aw his travels can beat will never do 't till th' Sun turns t' ice. Most o' aw, rating 'em as so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as if they was figures in a soom, or machines: wi'out loves and likens, wi'out memories and inclinations, wi'out souls... | noble return for his late injurious treatment to be faithful to the last to those who had repudiated him. He stayed to finish what was in his mind. "Sir, I canna, wi' my little learning an' my common way, tell the genelman what will better aw this though some working men o' this town could, above my powers but I can te... | sir, bigger an' bigger, broader an' broader, harder an' harder, fro year to year, fro generation unto generation. Who can look on 't, sir, and fairly tell a man 'tis not a muddle?" "Of course," said Mr. Bounderby. "Now perhaps you'll let the gentleman know, how you would set this muddle (as you're so fond of calling it... | to one another in their monny troubles, and so cherishes one another in their distresses wi' what they need themseln like, I humbly believe, as no people the genelman ha seen in aw his travels can beat will never do 't till th' Sun turns t' ice. Most o' aw, rating 'em as so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as if they was ... | Hard Times |
"that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend." | Josiah Bounderby | to me," said Mr. Bounderby,<|quote|>"that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend."</|quote|>Stephen shook his head, mutely | assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby,<|quote|>"that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend."</|quote|>Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had | a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby,<|quote|>"that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And ... | never do 't, sir, till God's work is onmade." Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him. "Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out... | I humbly believe, as no people the genelman ha seen in aw his travels can beat will never do 't till th' Sun turns t' ice. Most o' aw, rating 'em as so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as if they was figures in a soom, or machines: wi'out loves and likens, wi'out memories and inclinations, wi'out souls to weary and souls ... | his late injurious treatment to be faithful to the last to those who had repudiated him. He stayed to finish what was in his mind. "Sir, I canna, wi' my little learning an' my common way, tell the genelman what will better aw this though some working men o' this town could, above my powers but I can tell him what I kno... | bigger, broader an' broader, harder an' harder, fro year to year, fro generation unto generation. Who can look on 't, sir, and fairly tell a man 'tis not a muddle?" "Of course," said Mr. Bounderby. "Now perhaps you'll let the gentleman know, how you would set this muddle (as you're so fond of calling it) to rights." "I... | will never do 't. Vict'ry and triumph will never do 't. Agreeing fur to mak one side unnat'rally awlus and for ever right, and toother side unnat'rally awlus and for ever wrong, will never, never do 't. Nor yet lettin alone will never do 't. Let thousands upon thousands alone, aw leading the like lives and aw faw'en in... | Hard Times |
Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had other business to do for his life. | No speaker | of _your_ life, my friend."<|quote|>Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had other business to do for his life.</|quote|>"You are such a waspish, | raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend."<|quote|>Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had other business to do for his life.</|quote|>"You are such a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see," | "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend."<|quote|>Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he... | a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear ... | 'em as so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as if they was figures in a soom, or machines: wi'out loves and likens, wi'out memories and inclinations, wi'out souls to weary and souls to hope when aw goes quiet, draggin on wi' 'em as if they'd nowt o' th' kind, and when aw goes onquiet, reproachin 'em for their want o' sitch... | little learning an' my common way, tell the genelman what will better aw this though some working men o' this town could, above my powers but I can tell him what I know will never do 't. The strong hand will never do 't. Vict'ry and triumph will never do 't. Agreeing fur to mak one side unnat'rally awlus and for ever r... | "Of course," said Mr. Bounderby. "Now perhaps you'll let the gentleman know, how you would set this muddle (as you're so fond of calling it) to rights." "I donno, sir. I canna be expecten to 't. 'Tis not me as should be looken to for that, sir. 'Tis them as is put ower me, and ower aw the rest of us. What do they tak u... | draws nigh to one another in their monny troubles, and so cherishes one another in their distresses wi' what they need themseln like, I humbly believe, as no people the genelman ha seen in aw his travels can beat will never do 't till th' Sun turns t' ice. Most o' aw, rating 'em as so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as i... | Hard Times |
"You are such a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see," | Josiah Bounderby | to do for his life.<|quote|>"You are such a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see,"</|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby, "that even | indeed he had other business to do for his life.<|quote|>"You are such a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see,"</|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby, "that even your own Union, the men | said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend." Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had other business to do for his life.<|quote|>"You are such a waspish, raspish, i... | were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievanc... | machines: wi'out loves and likens, wi'out memories and inclinations, wi'out souls to weary and souls to hope when aw goes quiet, draggin on wi' 'em as if they'd nowt o' th' kind, and when aw goes onquiet, reproachin 'em for their want o' sitch humanly feelins in their dealins wi' yo this will never do 't, sir, till God... | men o' this town could, above my powers but I can tell him what I know will never do 't. The strong hand will never do 't. Vict'ry and triumph will never do 't. Agreeing fur to mak one side unnat'rally awlus and for ever right, and toother side unnat'rally awlus and for ever wrong, will never, never do 't. Nor yet lett... | muddle (as you're so fond of calling it) to rights." "I donno, sir. I canna be expecten to 't. 'Tis not me as should be looken to for that, sir. 'Tis them as is put ower me, and ower aw the rest of us. What do they tak upon themseln, sir, if not to do't?" "I'll tell you something towards it, at any rate," returned Mr. ... | pack it off to Norfolk Island, an' the time will go on just the same. So 'tis wi' Slackbridge every bit." Reverting for a moment to his former refuge, he observed a cautionary movement of her eyes towards the door. Stepping back, he put his hand upon the lock. But he had not spoken out of his own will and desire; and h... | Hard Times |
said Mr. Bounderby, | No speaker | raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see,"<|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby,</|quote|>"that even your own Union, | "You are such a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see,"<|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby,</|quote|>"that even your own Union, the men who know you | who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend." Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had other business to do for his life. "You are such a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see,"<|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby,</|... | about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. Tha... | souls to weary and souls to hope when aw goes quiet, draggin on wi' 'em as if they'd nowt o' th' kind, and when aw goes onquiet, reproachin 'em for their want o' sitch humanly feelins in their dealins wi' yo this will never do 't, sir, till God's work is onmade." Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to... | can tell him what I know will never do 't. The strong hand will never do 't. Vict'ry and triumph will never do 't. Agreeing fur to mak one side unnat'rally awlus and for ever right, and toother side unnat'rally awlus and for ever wrong, will never, never do 't. Nor yet lettin alone will never do 't. Let thousands upon ... | "I donno, sir. I canna be expecten to 't. 'Tis not me as should be looken to for that, sir. 'Tis them as is put ower me, and ower aw the rest of us. What do they tak upon themseln, sir, if not to do't?" "I'll tell you something towards it, at any rate," returned Mr. Bounderby. "We will make an example of half a dozen S... | my common way, tell the genelman what will better aw this though some working men o' this town could, above my powers but I can tell him what I know will never do 't. The strong hand will never do 't. Vict'ry and triumph will never do 't. Agreeing fur to mak one side unnat'rally awlus and for ever right, and toother si... | Hard Times |
"that even your own Union, the men who know you best, will have nothing to do with you. I never thought those fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." | Josiah Bounderby | you see," said Mr. Bounderby,<|quote|>"that even your own Union, the men who know you best, will have nothing to do with you. I never thought those fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either."</|quote|>Stephen raised... | a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see," said Mr. Bounderby,<|quote|>"that even your own Union, the men who know you best, will have nothing to do with you. I never thought those fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do... | got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend." Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had other business to do for his life. "You are such a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see," said Mr. Bounderby,<|quote|>"that even your ow... | out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the busines... | and souls to hope when aw goes quiet, draggin on wi' 'em as if they'd nowt o' th' kind, and when aw goes onquiet, reproachin 'em for their want o' sitch humanly feelins in their dealins wi' yo this will never do 't, sir, till God's work is onmade." Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anythi... | what I know will never do 't. The strong hand will never do 't. Vict'ry and triumph will never do 't. Agreeing fur to mak one side unnat'rally awlus and for ever right, and toother side unnat'rally awlus and for ever wrong, will never, never do 't. Nor yet lettin alone will never do 't. Let thousands upon thousands alo... | I canna be expecten to 't. 'Tis not me as should be looken to for that, sir. 'Tis them as is put ower me, and ower aw the rest of us. What do they tak upon themseln, sir, if not to do't?" "I'll tell you something towards it, at any rate," returned Mr. Bounderby. "We will make an example of half a dozen Slackbridges. We... | and useless to dream o' takin them fro their trade, 'stead o' takin their trade fro them! Aw that's now about me in this room were heer afore I coom, an' will be heer when I am gone. Put that clock aboard a ship an' pack it off to Norfolk Island, an' the time will go on just the same. So 'tis wi' Slackbridge every bit.... | Hard Times |
Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. | No speaker | to do with you either."<|quote|>Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face.</|quote|>"You can finish off what | novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either."<|quote|>Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face.</|quote|>"You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, | your own Union, the men who know you best, will have nothing to do with you. I never thought those fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either."<|quote|>Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face.</|quote|>"You can f... | grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend." Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had other business to do for his life. "You are such a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see," said Mr. Bounderby, "that even your own Union, the m... | the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him. "Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to ... | never do 't. Let thousands upon thousands alone, aw leading the like lives and aw faw'en into the like muddle, and they will be as one, and yo will be as anoother, wi' a black unpassable world betwixt yo, just as long or short a time as sich-like misery can last. Not drawin nigh to fok, wi' kindness and patience an' ch... | Mr. Bounderby. "We will make an example of half a dozen Slackbridges. We'll indict the blackguards for felony, and get 'em shipped off to penal settlements." Stephen gravely shook his head. "Don't tell me we won't, man," said Mr. Bounderby, by this time blowing a hurricane, "because we will, I tell you!" "Sir," returne... | for his late injurious treatment to be faithful to the last to those who had repudiated him. He stayed to finish what was in his mind. "Sir, I canna, wi' my little learning an' my common way, tell the genelman what will better aw this though some working men o' this town could, above my powers but I can tell him what I... | Hard Times |
"You can finish off what you're at," | Josiah Bounderby | eyes quickly to his face.<|quote|>"You can finish off what you're at,"</|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby, with a | you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face.<|quote|>"You can finish off what you're at,"</|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go | best, will have nothing to do with you. I never thought those fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face.<|quote|>"You can finish off what you're at,"</|quote|>said Mr. B... | raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend." Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had other business to do for his life. "You are such a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see," said Mr. Bounderby, "that even your own Union, the men who know you best, will have nothing to ... | know if anything more were expected of him. "Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not ... | aw leading the like lives and aw faw'en into the like muddle, and they will be as one, and yo will be as anoother, wi' a black unpassable world betwixt yo, just as long or short a time as sich-like misery can last. Not drawin nigh to fok, wi' kindness and patience an' cheery ways, that so draws nigh to one another in t... | half a dozen Slackbridges. We'll indict the blackguards for felony, and get 'em shipped off to penal settlements." Stephen gravely shook his head. "Don't tell me we won't, man," said Mr. Bounderby, by this time blowing a hurricane, "because we will, I tell you!" "Sir," returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of abs... | finish what was in his mind. "Sir, I canna, wi' my little learning an' my common way, tell the genelman what will better aw this though some working men o' this town could, above my powers but I can tell him what I know will never do 't. The strong hand will never do 't. Vict'ry and triumph will never do 't. Agreeing f... | Hard Times |
said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, | No speaker | finish off what you're at,"<|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod,</|quote|>"and then go elsewhere." "Sir, | to his face. "You can finish off what you're at,"<|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod,</|quote|>"and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen | you. I never thought those fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at,"<|quote|>said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod,</|quote|>"and ... | life, my friend." Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had other business to do for his life. "You are such a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see," said Mr. Bounderby, "that even your own Union, the men who know you best, will have nothing to do with you. I never thought those fellows co... | him. "Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." ... | faw'en into the like muddle, and they will be as one, and yo will be as anoother, wi' a black unpassable world betwixt yo, just as long or short a time as sich-like misery can last. Not drawin nigh to fok, wi' kindness and patience an' cheery ways, that so draws nigh to one another in their monny troubles, and so cheri... | blackguards for felony, and get 'em shipped off to penal settlements." Stephen gravely shook his head. "Don't tell me we won't, man," said Mr. Bounderby, by this time blowing a hurricane, "because we will, I tell you!" "Sir," returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty, "if yo was t' tak a hundred... | a black unpassable world betwixt yo, just as long or short a time as sich-like misery can last. Not drawin nigh to fok, wi' kindness and patience an' cheery ways, that so draws nigh to one another in their monny troubles, and so cherishes one another in their distresses wi' what they need themseln like, I humbly believ... | Hard Times |
"and then go elsewhere." | Josiah Bounderby | Bounderby, with a meaning nod,<|quote|>"and then go elsewhere."</|quote|>"Sir, yo know weel," said | what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod,<|quote|>"and then go elsewhere."</|quote|>"Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I | be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod,<|quote|>"and then go elsewhere."</|quote|>"Sir, yo know weel," ... | mutely protesting that indeed he had other business to do for his life. "You are such a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see," said Mr. Bounderby, "that even your own Union, the men who know you best, will have nothing to do with you. I never thought those fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you w... | Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bou... | will be as one, and yo will be as anoother, wi' a black unpassable world betwixt yo, just as long or short a time as sich-like misery can last. Not drawin nigh to fok, wi' kindness and patience an' cheery ways, that so draws nigh to one another in their monny troubles, and so cherishes one another in their distresses w... | off to penal settlements." Stephen gravely shook his head. "Don't tell me we won't, man," said Mr. Bounderby, by this time blowing a hurricane, "because we will, I tell you!" "Sir," returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty, "if yo was t' tak a hundred Slackbridges aw as there is, and aw the num... | toother side unnat'rally awlus and for ever wrong, will never, never do 't. Nor yet lettin alone will never do 't. Let thousands upon thousands alone, aw leading the like lives and aw faw'en into the like muddle, and they will be as one, and yo will be as anoother, wi' a black unpassable world betwixt yo, just as long ... | Hard Times |
"Sir, yo know weel," | Stephen Blackpool | nod, "and then go elsewhere."<|quote|>"Sir, yo know weel,"</|quote|>said Stephen expressively, "that if | Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere."<|quote|>"Sir, yo know weel,"</|quote|>said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' | but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere."<|quote|>"Sir, yo know weel,"</|quote|>said Stephen expressiv... | he had other business to do for his life. "You are such a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see," said Mr. Bounderby, "that even your own Union, the men who know you best, will have nothing to do with you. I never thought those fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with th... | the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of t... | and yo will be as anoother, wi' a black unpassable world betwixt yo, just as long or short a time as sich-like misery can last. Not drawin nigh to fok, wi' kindness and patience an' cheery ways, that so draws nigh to one another in their monny troubles, and so cherishes one another in their distresses wi' what they nee... | Stephen gravely shook his head. "Don't tell me we won't, man," said Mr. Bounderby, by this time blowing a hurricane, "because we will, I tell you!" "Sir," returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty, "if yo was t' tak a hundred Slackbridges aw as there is, and aw the number ten times towd an' was ... | not spoken out of his own will and desire; and he felt it in his heart a noble return for his late injurious treatment to be faithful to the last to those who had repudiated him. He stayed to finish what was in his mind. "Sir, I canna, wi' my little learning an' my common way, tell the genelman what will better aw this... | Hard Times |
said Stephen expressively, | No speaker | elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel,"<|quote|>said Stephen expressively,</|quote|>"that if I canna get | meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel,"<|quote|>said Stephen expressively,</|quote|>"that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna | what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel,"<|quote|>said Stephen expressively,</|quote|>"that if I... | to do for his life. "You are such a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see," said Mr. Bounderby, "that even your own Union, the men who know you best, will have nothing to do with you. I never thought those fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that... | you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who hav... | as anoother, wi' a black unpassable world betwixt yo, just as long or short a time as sich-like misery can last. Not drawin nigh to fok, wi' kindness and patience an' cheery ways, that so draws nigh to one another in their monny troubles, and so cherishes one another in their distresses wi' what they need themseln like... | head. "Don't tell me we won't, man," said Mr. Bounderby, by this time blowing a hurricane, "because we will, I tell you!" "Sir," returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty, "if yo was t' tak a hundred Slackbridges aw as there is, and aw the number ten times towd an' was t' sew 'em up in separate ... | another in their monny troubles, and so cherishes one another in their distresses wi' what they need themseln like, I humbly believe, as no people the genelman ha seen in aw his travels can beat will never do 't till th' Sun turns t' ice. Most o' aw, rating 'em as so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as if they was figures... | Hard Times |
"that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer." | Stephen Blackpool | know weel," said Stephen expressively,<|quote|>"that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer."</|quote|>The reply was, "What I | then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively,<|quote|>"that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer."</|quote|>The reply was, "What I know, I know; and what | far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively,<|quote|>"that if I canna get work wi' ... | his life. "You are such a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see," said Mr. Bounderby, "that even your own Union, the men who know you best, will have nothing to do with you. I never thought those fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll ha... | time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a... | a black unpassable world betwixt yo, just as long or short a time as sich-like misery can last. Not drawin nigh to fok, wi' kindness and patience an' cheery ways, that so draws nigh to one another in their monny troubles, and so cherishes one another in their distresses wi' what they need themseln like, I humbly believ... | me we won't, man," said Mr. Bounderby, by this time blowing a hurricane, "because we will, I tell you!" "Sir," returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty, "if yo was t' tak a hundred Slackbridges aw as there is, and aw the number ten times towd an' was t' sew 'em up in separate sacks, an' sink 'e... | and for ever wrong, will never, never do 't. Nor yet lettin alone will never do 't. Let thousands upon thousands alone, aw leading the like lives and aw faw'en into the like muddle, and they will be as one, and yo will be as anoother, wi' a black unpassable world betwixt yo, just as long or short a time as sich-like mi... | Hard Times |
The reply was, | No speaker | I canna get it elsewheer."<|quote|>The reply was,</|quote|>"What I know, I know; | canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer."<|quote|>The reply was,</|quote|>"What I know, I know; and what you know, you | do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer."<|quote|>The reply was,</|quote|>"What I kno... | Mr. Bounderby, "that even your own Union, the men who know you best, will have nothing to do with you. I never thought those fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "... | and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's th... | as sich-like misery can last. Not drawin nigh to fok, wi' kindness and patience an' cheery ways, that so draws nigh to one another in their monny troubles, and so cherishes one another in their distresses wi' what they need themseln like, I humbly believe, as no people the genelman ha seen in aw his travels can beat wi... | "because we will, I tell you!" "Sir," returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty, "if yo was t' tak a hundred Slackbridges aw as there is, and aw the number ten times towd an' was t' sew 'em up in separate sacks, an' sink 'em in the deepest ocean as were made ere ever dry land coom to be, yo'd le... | aw faw'en into the like muddle, and they will be as one, and yo will be as anoother, wi' a black unpassable world betwixt yo, just as long or short a time as sich-like misery can last. Not drawin nigh to fok, wi' kindness and patience an' cheery ways, that so draws nigh to one another in their monny troubles, and so ch... | Hard Times |
"What I know, I know; and what you know, you know. I have no more to say about it." | Josiah Bounderby | it elsewheer." The reply was,<|quote|>"What I know, I know; and what you know, you know. I have no more to say about it."</|quote|>Stephen glanced at Louisa again, | wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer." The reply was,<|quote|>"What I know, I know; and what you know, you know. I have no more to say about it."</|quote|>Stephen glanced at Louisa again, but her eyes were raised | either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer." The reply was,<|quote|>"What I know, I know; and what y... | even your own Union, the men who know you best, will have nothing to do with you. I never thought those fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off wh... | of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of... | can last. Not drawin nigh to fok, wi' kindness and patience an' cheery ways, that so draws nigh to one another in their monny troubles, and so cherishes one another in their distresses wi' what they need themseln like, I humbly believe, as no people the genelman ha seen in aw his travels can beat will never do 't till ... | I tell you!" "Sir," returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty, "if yo was t' tak a hundred Slackbridges aw as there is, and aw the number ten times towd an' was t' sew 'em up in separate sacks, an' sink 'em in the deepest ocean as were made ere ever dry land coom to be, yo'd leave the muddle jus... | faw'en into the like muddle, and they will be as one, and yo will be as anoother, wi' a black unpassable world betwixt yo, just as long or short a time as sich-like misery can last. Not drawin nigh to fok, wi' kindness and patience an' cheery ways, that so draws nigh to one another in their monny troubles, and so cheri... | Hard Times |
Stephen glanced at Louisa again, but her eyes were raised to his no more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his breath, | No speaker | more to say about it."<|quote|>Stephen glanced at Louisa again, but her eyes were raised to his no more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his breath,</|quote|>"Heaven help us aw in | you know. I have no more to say about it."<|quote|>Stephen glanced at Louisa again, but her eyes were raised to his no more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his breath,</|quote|>"Heaven help us aw in this world!" he departed. CHAPTER | with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer." The reply was, "What I know, I know; and what you know, you know. I have no more to say about it."<|quote|>Stephen glanced at Louisa again, but her eyes were raised t... | thought those fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo k... | "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend." Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had oth... | one another in their monny troubles, and so cherishes one another in their distresses wi' what they need themseln like, I humbly believe, as no people the genelman ha seen in aw his travels can beat will never do 't till th' Sun turns t' ice. Most o' aw, rating 'em as so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as if they was fig... | hundred Slackbridges aw as there is, and aw the number ten times towd an' was t' sew 'em up in separate sacks, an' sink 'em in the deepest ocean as were made ere ever dry land coom to be, yo'd leave the muddle just wheer 'tis. Mischeevous strangers!" said Stephen, with an anxious smile; "when ha we not heern, I am sure... | you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend." Stephen... | Hard Times |
"Heaven help us aw in this world!" | Stephen Blackpool | saying, barely above his breath,<|quote|>"Heaven help us aw in this world!"</|quote|>he departed. CHAPTER VI FADING | therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his breath,<|quote|>"Heaven help us aw in this world!"</|quote|>he departed. CHAPTER VI FADING AWAY IT was falling dark | canna get it elsewheer." The reply was, "What I know, I know; and what you know, you know. I have no more to say about it." Stephen glanced at Louisa again, but her eyes were raised to his no more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his breath,<|quote|>"Heaven help us aw in this world!"</|quote|>he depart... | _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer." The reply was, "What... | of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend." Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had other business to do for his life. "You are such a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see," said Mr. Bounde... | no people the genelman ha seen in aw his travels can beat will never do 't till th' Sun turns t' ice. Most o' aw, rating 'em as so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as if they was figures in a soom, or machines: wi'out loves and likens, wi'out memories and inclinations, wi'out souls to weary and souls to hope when aw goes ... | 'em in the deepest ocean as were made ere ever dry land coom to be, yo'd leave the muddle just wheer 'tis. Mischeevous strangers!" said Stephen, with an anxious smile; "when ha we not heern, I am sure, sin ever we can call to mind, o' th' mischeevous strangers! 'Tis not by _them_ the trouble's made, sir. 'Tis not wi' _... | way, tell the genelman what will better aw this though some working men o' this town could, above my powers but I can tell him what I know will never do 't. The strong hand will never do 't. Vict'ry and triumph will never do 't. Agreeing fur to mak one side unnat'rally awlus and for ever right, and toother side unnat'r... | Hard Times |
he departed. CHAPTER VI FADING AWAY IT was falling dark when Stephen came out of Mr. Bounderby's house. The shadows of night had gathered so fast, that he did not look about him when he closed the door, but plodded straight along the street. Nothing was further from his thoughts than the curious old woman he had encoun... | No speaker | us aw in this world!"<|quote|>he departed. CHAPTER VI FADING AWAY IT was falling dark when Stephen came out of Mr. Bounderby's house. The shadows of night had gathered so fast, that he did not look about him when he closed the door, but plodded straight along the street. Nothing was further from his thoughts than the c... | above his breath, "Heaven help us aw in this world!"<|quote|>he departed. CHAPTER VI FADING AWAY IT was falling dark when Stephen came out of Mr. Bounderby's house. The shadows of night had gathered so fast, that he did not look about him when he closed the door, but plodded straight along the street. Nothing was furth... | "What I know, I know; and what you know, you know. I have no more to say about it." Stephen glanced at Louisa again, but her eyes were raised to his no more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his breath, "Heaven help us aw in this world!"<|quote|>he departed. CHAPTER VI FADING AWAY IT was falling dark wh... | either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer." The reply was, "What I know, I know; and what you know,... | a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend." Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had other business to do for his life. "You are such a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see," said Mr. Bounderby, "that even your own Union, the... | aw his travels can beat will never do 't till th' Sun turns t' ice. Most o' aw, rating 'em as so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as if they was figures in a soom, or machines: wi'out loves and likens, wi'out memories and inclinations, wi'out souls to weary and souls to hope when aw goes quiet, draggin on wi' 'em as if th... | made ere ever dry land coom to be, yo'd leave the muddle just wheer 'tis. Mischeevous strangers!" said Stephen, with an anxious smile; "when ha we not heern, I am sure, sin ever we can call to mind, o' th' mischeevous strangers! 'Tis not by _them_ the trouble's made, sir. 'Tis not wi' _them_ 't commences. I ha no favou... | will never do 't. Vict'ry and triumph will never do 't. Agreeing fur to mak one side unnat'rally awlus and for ever right, and toother side unnat'rally awlus and for ever wrong, will never, never do 't. Nor yet lettin alone will never do 't. Let thousands upon thousands alone, aw leading the like lives and aw faw'en in... | Hard Times |
"Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!" | Stephen Blackpool | he had heard her only.<|quote|>"Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!"</|quote|>"Well, and now you are | He saw Rachael first, as he had heard her only.<|quote|>"Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!"</|quote|>"Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and | street. Nothing was further from his thoughts than the curious old woman he had encountered on his previous visit to the same house, when he heard a step behind him that he knew, and turning, saw her in Rachael's company. He saw Rachael first, as he had heard her only.<|quote|>"Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' he... | "Heaven help us aw in this world!" he departed. CHAPTER VI FADING AWAY IT was falling dark when Stephen came out of Mr. Bounderby's house. The shadows of night had gathered so fast, that he did not look about him when he closed the door, but plodded straight along the street. Nothing was further from his thoughts than ... | _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer." The reply was, "What... | till God's work is onmade." Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him. "Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I al... | me in this room were heer afore I coom, an' will be heer when I am gone. Put that clock aboard a ship an' pack it off to Norfolk Island, an' the time will go on just the same. So 'tis wi' Slackbridge every bit." Reverting for a moment to his former refuge, he observed a cautionary movement of her eyes towards the door.... | door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him. "Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold ... | Hard Times |
"Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say," | The Old Woman | dear! Missus, thou wi' her!"<|quote|>"Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say,"</|quote|>the old woman returned. "Here | her only. "Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!"<|quote|>"Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say,"</|quote|>the old woman returned. "Here I am again, you see." | the curious old woman he had encountered on his previous visit to the same house, when he heard a step behind him that he knew, and turning, saw her in Rachael's company. He saw Rachael first, as he had heard her only. "Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!"<|quote|>"Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, an... | departed. CHAPTER VI FADING AWAY IT was falling dark when Stephen came out of Mr. Bounderby's house. The shadows of night had gathered so fast, that he did not look about him when he closed the door, but plodded straight along the street. Nothing was further from his thoughts than the curious old woman he had encounter... | Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer." The reply was, "What I know, I know; and what you know, you know... | the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him. "Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to ... | coom, an' will be heer when I am gone. Put that clock aboard a ship an' pack it off to Norfolk Island, an' the time will go on just the same. So 'tis wi' Slackbridge every bit." Reverting for a moment to his former refuge, he observed a cautionary movement of her eyes towards the door. Stepping back, he put his hand up... | nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer." The reply was, "What I know, I k... | Hard Times |
the old woman returned. | No speaker | with reason I must say,"<|quote|>the old woman returned.</|quote|>"Here I am again, you | surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say,"<|quote|>the old woman returned.</|quote|>"Here I am again, you see." "But how wi' Rachael?" | when he heard a step behind him that he knew, and turning, saw her in Rachael's company. He saw Rachael first, as he had heard her only. "Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!" "Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say,"<|quote|>the old woman returned.</|quote|>"Here I am again, you ... | Bounderby's house. The shadows of night had gathered so fast, that he did not look about him when he closed the door, but plodded straight along the street. Nothing was further from his thoughts than the curious old woman he had encountered on his previous visit to the same house, when he heard a step behind him that h... | said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer." The reply was, "What I know, I know; and what you know, you know. I have no more to say about it." Stephen glanced at Louisa again, but her eyes w... | him. "Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." ... | an' pack it off to Norfolk Island, an' the time will go on just the same. So 'tis wi' Slackbridge every bit." Reverting for a moment to his former refuge, he observed a cautionary movement of her eyes towards the door. Stepping back, he put his hand upon the lock. But he had not spoken out of his own will and desire; a... | ha seen in aw his travels can beat will never do 't till th' Sun turns t' ice. Most o' aw, rating 'em as so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as if they was figures in a soom, or machines: wi'out loves and likens, wi'out memories and inclinations, wi'out souls to weary and souls to hope when aw goes quiet, draggin on wi' '... | Hard Times |
"Here I am again, you see." | The Old Woman | say," the old woman returned.<|quote|>"Here I am again, you see."</|quote|>"But how wi' Rachael?" said | and with reason I must say," the old woman returned.<|quote|>"Here I am again, you see."</|quote|>"But how wi' Rachael?" said Stephen, falling into their step, | step behind him that he knew, and turning, saw her in Rachael's company. He saw Rachael first, as he had heard her only. "Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!" "Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say," the old woman returned.<|quote|>"Here I am again, you see."</|quote|>"But how w... | of night had gathered so fast, that he did not look about him when he closed the door, but plodded straight along the street. Nothing was further from his thoughts than the curious old woman he had encountered on his previous visit to the same house, when he heard a step behind him that he knew, and turning, saw her in... | a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer." The reply was, "What I know, I know; and what you know, you know. I have no more to say about it." Stephen glanced at Louisa again, but her eyes were raised to his no more... | moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to... | to Norfolk Island, an' the time will go on just the same. So 'tis wi' Slackbridge every bit." Reverting for a moment to his former refuge, he observed a cautionary movement of her eyes towards the door. Stepping back, he put his hand upon the lock. But he had not spoken out of his own will and desire; and he felt it in... | stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him. "Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I... | Hard Times |
"But how wi' Rachael?" | Stephen Blackpool | I am again, you see."<|quote|>"But how wi' Rachael?"</|quote|>said Stephen, falling into their | the old woman returned. "Here I am again, you see."<|quote|>"But how wi' Rachael?"</|quote|>said Stephen, falling into their step, walking between them, and | and turning, saw her in Rachael's company. He saw Rachael first, as he had heard her only. "Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!" "Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say," the old woman returned. "Here I am again, you see."<|quote|>"But how wi' Rachael?"</|quote|>said Stephen, fal... | that he did not look about him when he closed the door, but plodded straight along the street. Nothing was further from his thoughts than the curious old woman he had encountered on his previous visit to the same house, when he heard a step behind him that he knew, and turning, saw her in Rachael's company. He saw Rach... | elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer." The reply was, "What I know, I know; and what you know, you know. I have no more to say about it." Stephen glanced at Louisa again, but her eyes were raised to his no more; therefore, with a sigh, an... | in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one o... | will go on just the same. So 'tis wi' Slackbridge every bit." Reverting for a moment to his former refuge, he observed a cautionary movement of her eyes towards the door. Stepping back, he put his hand upon the lock. But he had not spoken out of his own will and desire; and he felt it in his heart a noble return for hi... | you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get wo... | Hard Times |
said Stephen, falling into their step, walking between them, and looking from the one to the other. | No speaker | see." "But how wi' Rachael?"<|quote|>said Stephen, falling into their step, walking between them, and looking from the one to the other.</|quote|>"Why, I come to be | "Here I am again, you see." "But how wi' Rachael?"<|quote|>said Stephen, falling into their step, walking between them, and looking from the one to the other.</|quote|>"Why, I come to be with this good lass pretty | in Rachael's company. He saw Rachael first, as he had heard her only. "Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!" "Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say," the old woman returned. "Here I am again, you see." "But how wi' Rachael?"<|quote|>said Stephen, falling into their step, walking ... | look about him when he closed the door, but plodded straight along the street. Nothing was further from his thoughts than the curious old woman he had encountered on his previous visit to the same house, when he heard a step behind him that he knew, and turning, saw her in Rachael's company. He saw Rachael first, as he... | weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer." The reply was, "What I know, I know; and what you know, you know. I have no more to say about it." Stephen glanced at Louisa again, but her eyes were raised to his no more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his... | told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps wh... | the same. So 'tis wi' Slackbridge every bit." Reverting for a moment to his former refuge, he observed a cautionary movement of her eyes towards the door. Stepping back, he put his hand upon the lock. But he had not spoken out of his own will and desire; and he felt it in his heart a noble return for his late injurious... | that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing ... | Hard Times |
"Why, I come to be with this good lass pretty much as I came to be with you," | The Old Woman | the one to the other.<|quote|>"Why, I come to be with this good lass pretty much as I came to be with you,"</|quote|>said the old woman, cheerfully, | between them, and looking from the one to the other.<|quote|>"Why, I come to be with this good lass pretty much as I came to be with you,"</|quote|>said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon herself. | Missus, thou wi' her!" "Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say," the old woman returned. "Here I am again, you see." "But how wi' Rachael?" said Stephen, falling into their step, walking between them, and looking from the one to the other.<|quote|>"Why, I come to be with this good lass p... | from his thoughts than the curious old woman he had encountered on his previous visit to the same house, when he heard a step behind him that he knew, and turning, saw her in Rachael's company. He saw Rachael first, as he had heard her only. "Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!" "Well, and now you are surprised... | The reply was, "What I know, I know; and what you know, you know. I have no more to say about it." Stephen glanced at Louisa again, but her eyes were raised to his no more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his breath, "Heaven help us aw in this world!" he departed. CHAPTER VI FADING AWAY IT was falling ... | and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's th... | observed a cautionary movement of her eyes towards the door. Stepping back, he put his hand upon the lock. But he had not spoken out of his own will and desire; and he felt it in his heart a noble return for his late injurious treatment to be faithful to the last to those who had repudiated him. He stayed to finish wha... | to hope when aw goes quiet, draggin on wi' 'em as if they'd nowt o' th' kind, and when aw goes onquiet, reproachin 'em for their want o' sitch humanly feelins in their dealins wi' yo this will never do 't, sir, till God's work is onmade." Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more we... | Hard Times |
said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon herself. | No speaker | came to be with you,"<|quote|>said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon herself.</|quote|>"My visiting time is later | lass pretty much as I came to be with you,"<|quote|>said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon herself.</|quote|>"My visiting time is later this year than usual, for | say," the old woman returned. "Here I am again, you see." "But how wi' Rachael?" said Stephen, falling into their step, walking between them, and looking from the one to the other. "Why, I come to be with this good lass pretty much as I came to be with you,"<|quote|>said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon... | house, when he heard a step behind him that he knew, and turning, saw her in Rachael's company. He saw Rachael first, as he had heard her only. "Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!" "Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say," the old woman returned. "Here I am again, you see." "But... | to say about it." Stephen glanced at Louisa again, but her eyes were raised to his no more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his breath, "Heaven help us aw in this world!" he departed. CHAPTER VI FADING AWAY IT was falling dark when Stephen came out of Mr. Bounderby's house. The shadows of night had gat... | the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend." Stephen shook his head, mutely protest... | lock. But he had not spoken out of his own will and desire; and he felt it in his heart a noble return for his late injurious treatment to be faithful to the last to those who had repudiated him. He stayed to finish what was in his mind. "Sir, I canna, wi' my little learning an' my common way, tell the genelman what wi... | in their monny troubles, and so cherishes one another in their distresses wi' what they need themseln like, I humbly believe, as no people the genelman ha seen in aw his travels can beat will never do 't till th' Sun turns t' ice. Most o' aw, rating 'em as so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as if they was figures in a so... | Hard Times |
"My visiting time is later this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days, and get a bed to-night at the Travellers' Coffee House down by the rai... | The Old Woman | taking the reply upon herself.<|quote|>"My visiting time is later this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days, and get a bed to-night at the T... | said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon herself.<|quote|>"My visiting time is later this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days,... | see." "But how wi' Rachael?" said Stephen, falling into their step, walking between them, and looking from the one to the other. "Why, I come to be with this good lass pretty much as I came to be with you," said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon herself.<|quote|>"My visiting time is later this year than ... | knew, and turning, saw her in Rachael's company. He saw Rachael first, as he had heard her only. "Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!" "Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say," the old woman returned. "Here I am again, you see." "But how wi' Rachael?" said Stephen, falling into t... | her eyes were raised to his no more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his breath, "Heaven help us aw in this world!" he departed. CHAPTER VI FADING AWAY IT was falling dark when Stephen came out of Mr. Bounderby's house. The shadows of night had gathered so fast, that he did not look about him when he c... | myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend." Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had other business to do for... | will and desire; and he felt it in his heart a noble return for his late injurious treatment to be faithful to the last to those who had repudiated him. He stayed to finish what was in his mind. "Sir, I canna, wi' my little learning an' my common way, tell the genelman what will better aw this though some working men o... | wi'out souls to weary and souls to hope when aw goes quiet, draggin on wi' 'em as if they'd nowt o' th' kind, and when aw goes onquiet, reproachin 'em for their want o' sitch humanly feelins in their dealins wi' yo this will never do 't, sir, till God's work is onmade." Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, wai... | Hard Times |
the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm: | No speaker | grand oh, it looked fine!"<|quote|>the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm:</|quote|>"and I want to see | the paper, where it looked grand oh, it looked fine!"<|quote|>the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm:</|quote|>"and I want to see his wife. I have never | house), and go back Parliamentary, at six in the morning. Well, but what has this to do with this good lass, says you? I'm going to tell you. I have heard of Mr. Bounderby being married. I read it in the paper, where it looked grand oh, it looked fine!"<|quote|>the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm:</|quote... | of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days, and get a bed to-night at the Travellers' Coffee House down by the railroad (a nice clean house), and go back Parliamentary, at six in the morning. Well, but what has... | only. "Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!" "Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say," the old woman returned. "Here I am again, you see." "But how wi' Rachael?" said Stephen, falling into their step, walking between them, and looking from the one to the other. "Why, I come to be ... | that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer." The reply was, ... | never, never do 't. Nor yet lettin alone will never do 't. Let thousands upon thousands alone, aw leading the like lives and aw faw'en into the like muddle, and they will be as one, and yo will be as anoother, wi' a black unpassable world betwixt yo, just as long or short a time as sich-like misery can last. Not drawin... | _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer." The reply was, "What... | Hard Times |
"and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't come out of that house since noon to-day. So not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this good lass two or three times; and her face being so friendly I spoke to her, ... | The Old Woman | on it with strange enthusiasm:<|quote|>"and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't come out of that house since noon to-day. So not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this good lass two or three times; and her ... | fine!" the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm:<|quote|>"and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't come out of that house since noon to-day. So not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this good lass t... | morning. Well, but what has this to do with this good lass, says you? I'm going to tell you. I have heard of Mr. Bounderby being married. I read it in the paper, where it looked grand oh, it looked fine!" the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm:<|quote|>"and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. ... | weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days, and get a bed to-night at the Travellers' Coffee House down by the railroad (a nice clean house), and go back Parliamentary, at six in the morning. Well, but what has this to do with this good lass, says ... | "Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say," the old woman returned. "Here I am again, you see." "But how wi' Rachael?" said Stephen, falling into their step, walking between them, and looking from the one to the other. "Why, I come to be with this good lass pretty much as I came to be with... | Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer." The reply was, "What I know, I know; and what you know, you know... | never do 't. Let thousands upon thousands alone, aw leading the like lives and aw faw'en into the like muddle, and they will be as one, and yo will be as anoother, wi' a black unpassable world betwixt yo, just as long or short a time as sich-like misery can last. Not drawin nigh to fok, wi' kindness and patience an' ch... | to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend." Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had other business to ... | Hard Times |
said the old woman to Stephen, | No speaker | she spoke to me. There!"<|quote|>said the old woman to Stephen,</|quote|>"you can make all the | I spoke to her, and she spoke to me. There!"<|quote|>said the old woman to Stephen,</|quote|>"you can make all the rest out for yourself now, | that house since noon to-day. So not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this good lass two or three times; and her face being so friendly I spoke to her, and she spoke to me. There!"<|quote|>said the old woman to Stephen,</|quote|>"you can make all the rest ou... | Mr. Bounderby being married. I read it in the paper, where it looked grand oh, it looked fine!" the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm: "and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't come out of that house since noon to-day. So not to give her up too easily, I w... | herself. "My visiting time is later this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days, and get a bed to-night at the Travellers' Coffee House down b... | but her eyes were raised to his no more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his breath, "Heaven help us aw in this world!" he departed. CHAPTER VI FADING AWAY IT was falling dark when Stephen came out of Mr. Bounderby's house. The shadows of night had gathered so fast, that he did not look about him when ... | troubles, and so cherishes one another in their distresses wi' what they need themseln like, I humbly believe, as no people the genelman ha seen in aw his travels can beat will never do 't till th' Sun turns t' ice. Most o' aw, rating 'em as so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as if they was figures in a soom, or machines... | those fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel... | Hard Times |
"you can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!" | The Old Woman | the old woman to Stephen,<|quote|>"you can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!"</|quote|>Once again, Stephen had to | spoke to me. There!" said the old woman to Stephen,<|quote|>"you can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!"</|quote|>Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to | not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this good lass two or three times; and her face being so friendly I spoke to her, and she spoke to me. There!" said the old woman to Stephen,<|quote|>"you can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I ... | it in the paper, where it looked grand oh, it looked fine!" the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm: "and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't come out of that house since noon to-day. So not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit ... | this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days, and get a bed to-night at the Travellers' Coffee House down by the railroad (a nice clean house),... | his no more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his breath, "Heaven help us aw in this world!" he departed. CHAPTER VI FADING AWAY IT was falling dark when Stephen came out of Mr. Bounderby's house. The shadows of night had gathered so fast, that he did not look about him when he closed the door, but plod... | in their distresses wi' what they need themseln like, I humbly believe, as no people the genelman ha seen in aw his travels can beat will never do 't till th' Sun turns t' ice. Most o' aw, rating 'em as so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as if they was figures in a soom, or machines: wi'out loves and likens, wi'out memor... | to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend." Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had other business to do for his life. "You are such a waspish, raspish, i... | Hard Times |
Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. | No speaker | I can, I dare say!"<|quote|>Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old... | now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!"<|quote|>Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that ... | close to this good lass two or three times; and her face being so friendly I spoke to her, and she spoke to me. There!" said the old woman to Stephen, "you can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!"<|quote|>Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike ... | strange enthusiasm: "and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't come out of that house since noon to-day. So not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this good lass two or three times; and her face being so frien... | till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days, and get a bed to-night at the Travellers' Coffee House down by the railroad (a nice clean house), and go back Parliamentary, at six in the morning. Well, but what has this to do with this good la... | world!" he departed. CHAPTER VI FADING AWAY IT was falling dark when Stephen came out of Mr. Bounderby's house. The shadows of night had gathered so fast, that he did not look about him when he closed the door, but plodded straight along the street. Nothing was further from his thoughts than the curious old woman he ha... | in aw his travels can beat will never do 't till th' Sun turns t' ice. Most o' aw, rating 'em as so much Power, and reg'latin 'em as if they was figures in a soom, or machines: wi'out loves and likens, wi'out memories and inclinations, wi'out souls to weary and souls to hope when aw goes quiet, draggin on wi' 'em as if... | said Mr. Bounderby, "that even your own Union, the men who know you best, will have nothing to do with you. I never thought those fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his fa... | Hard Times |
"Well, missus," | Stephen Blackpool | her in her old age.<|quote|>"Well, missus,"</|quote|>said he, "I ha seen | pursued the subject that interested her in her old age.<|quote|>"Well, missus,"</|quote|>said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were | an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age.<|quote|>"Well, missus,"</|quote|>said he, "I ha seen the ... | or three times; and her face being so friendly I spoke to her, and she spoke to me. There!" said the old woman to Stephen, "you can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!" Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner wa... | has this to do with this good lass, says you? I'm going to tell you. I have heard of Mr. Bounderby being married. I read it in the paper, where it looked grand oh, it looked fine!" the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm: "and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she h... | he had encountered on his previous visit to the same house, when he heard a step behind him that he knew, and turning, saw her in Rachael's company. He saw Rachael first, as he had heard her only. "Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!" "Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say," the... | goes quiet, draggin on wi' 'em as if they'd nowt o' th' kind, and when aw goes onquiet, reproachin 'em for their want o' sitch humanly feelins in their dealins wi' yo this will never do 't, sir, till God's work is onmade." Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of h... | the other. "Why, I come to be with this good lass pretty much as I came to be with you," said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon herself. "My visiting time is later this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For the... | Hard Times |
said he, | No speaker | her old age. "Well, missus,"<|quote|>said he,</|quote|>"I ha seen the lady, | subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus,"<|quote|>said he,</|quote|>"I ha seen the lady, and she were young and | propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus,"<|quote|>said he,</|quote|>"I ha seen the lady, and she w... | times; and her face being so friendly I spoke to her, and she spoke to me. There!" said the old woman to Stephen, "you can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!" Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as hone... | to do with this good lass, says you? I'm going to tell you. I have heard of Mr. Bounderby being married. I read it in the paper, where it looked grand oh, it looked fine!" the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm: "and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't com... | encountered on his previous visit to the same house, when he heard a step behind him that he knew, and turning, saw her in Rachael's company. He saw Rachael first, as he had heard her only. "Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!" "Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say," the old wo... | draggin on wi' 'em as if they'd nowt o' th' kind, and when aw goes onquiet, reproachin 'em for their want o' sitch humanly feelins in their dealins wi' yo this will never do 't, sir, till God's work is onmade." Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him. "Just st... | weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days, and get a bed to-night at the Travellers' Coffee House down by the railroad (a nice clean house), and go back Parliamentary, at six in the morning. Well, but what has this to do with this good lass, says ... | Hard Times |
"I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." | Stephen Blackpool | age. "Well, missus," said he,<|quote|>"I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on."</|quote|>"Young and handsome. Yes!" cried | interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he,<|quote|>"I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on."</|quote|>"Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. | dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he,<|quote|>"I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. W... | her face being so friendly I spoke to her, and she spoke to me. There!" said the old woman to Stephen, "you can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!" Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simp... | with this good lass, says you? I'm going to tell you. I have heard of Mr. Bounderby being married. I read it in the paper, where it looked grand oh, it looked fine!" the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm: "and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't come out ... | his previous visit to the same house, when he heard a step behind him that he knew, and turning, saw her in Rachael's company. He saw Rachael first, as he had heard her only. "Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!" "Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say," the old woman returned. "... | wi' 'em as if they'd nowt o' th' kind, and when aw goes onquiet, reproachin 'em for their want o' sitch humanly feelins in their dealins wi' yo this will never do 't, sir, till God's work is onmade." Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him. "Just stop a moment... | know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer." The reply was, "What I know, I know; and what you know, you know. I have no more to say about it." Stephen glanced at Louisa again, but her eyes were raised to his no more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely abov... | Hard Times |
"Young and handsome. Yes!" | The Old Woman | never seen the like on."<|quote|>"Young and handsome. Yes!"</|quote|>cried the old woman, quite | way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on."<|quote|>"Young and handsome. Yes!"</|quote|>cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a | knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on."<|quote|>"Young and handsome. Yes!"</|quote|>cried the old woman, quite ... | yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!" Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that... | oh, it looked fine!" the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm: "and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't come out of that house since noon to-day. So not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this good ... | he had heard her only. "Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!" "Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say," the old woman returned. "Here I am again, you see." "But how wi' Rachael?" said Stephen, falling into their step, walking between them, and looking from the one to the other. "W... | will never do 't, sir, till God's work is onmade." Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him. "Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and com... | Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer." The reply was, "What I know, I know; and what you know, you know. I have no more to say about it." Stephen glanced at Louisa again, but her eyes were raised to his no more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his breath, "He... | Hard Times |
cried the old woman, quite delighted. | No speaker | on." "Young and handsome. Yes!"<|quote|>cried the old woman, quite delighted.</|quote|>"As bonny as a rose! | ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!"<|quote|>cried the old woman, quite delighted.</|quote|>"As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" | to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!"<|quote|>cried the old woman, quite delighted.</|quote|>"As... | shorter than I can, I dare say!" Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in he... | the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm: "and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't come out of that house since noon to-day. So not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this good lass two or three tim... | only. "Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!" "Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say," the old woman returned. "Here I am again, you see." "But how wi' Rachael?" said Stephen, falling into their step, walking between them, and looking from the one to the other. "Why, I come to be ... | sir, till God's work is onmade." Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him. "Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And... | barely above his breath, "Heaven help us aw in this world!" he departed. CHAPTER VI FADING AWAY IT was falling dark when Stephen came out of Mr. Bounderby's house. The shadows of night had gathered so fast, that he did not look about him when he closed the door, but plodded straight along the street. Nothing was furthe... | Hard Times |
"As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" | The Old Woman | the old woman, quite delighted.<|quote|>"As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!"</|quote|>"Aye, missus, I suppose she | "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted.<|quote|>"As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!"</|quote|>"Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with | that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted.<|quote|>"As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!"</|... | say!" Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," ... | with strange enthusiasm: "and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't come out of that house since noon to-day. So not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this good lass two or three times; and her face being so ... | thou wi' her!" "Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say," the old woman returned. "Here I am again, you see." "But how wi' Rachael?" said Stephen, falling into their step, walking between them, and looking from the one to the other. "Why, I come to be with this good lass pretty much as I ... | Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him. "Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember... | CHAPTER VI FADING AWAY IT was falling dark when Stephen came out of Mr. Bounderby's house. The shadows of night had gathered so fast, that he did not look about him when he closed the door, but plodded straight along the street. Nothing was further from his thoughts than the curious old woman he had encountered on his ... | Hard Times |
"Aye, missus, I suppose she be," | Stephen Blackpool | And what a happy wife!"<|quote|>"Aye, missus, I suppose she be,"</|quote|>said Stephen. But with a | "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!"<|quote|>"Aye, missus, I suppose she be,"</|quote|>said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose | he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!"<|quote|>"Aye, missus, I suppose she be,"</|quote|>said Stephen. But... | to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fi... | I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't come out of that house since noon to-day. So not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this good lass two or three times; and her face being so friendly I spoke to her, and she spoke to me. There!" ... | be sure, and with reason I must say," the old woman returned. "Here I am again, you see." "But how wi' Rachael?" said Stephen, falling into their step, walking between them, and looking from the one to the other. "Why, I come to be with this good lass pretty much as I came to be with you," said the old woman, cheerfull... | to know if anything more were expected of him. "Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were n... | "and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't come out of that house since noon to-day. So not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this good lass two or three times; and her face being so friendly I spoke to her, ... | Hard Times |
said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. | No speaker | missus, I suppose she be,"<|quote|>said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael.</|quote|>"Suppose she be? She must | what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be,"<|quote|>said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael.</|quote|>"Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," | and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be,"<|quote|>said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael... | her manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still ... | Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't come out of that house since noon to-day. So not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this good lass two or three times; and her face being so friendly I spoke to her, and she spoke to me. There!" said the old woman to Steph... | must say," the old woman returned. "Here I am again, you see." "But how wi' Rachael?" said Stephen, falling into their step, walking between them, and looking from the one to the other. "Why, I come to be with this good lass pretty much as I came to be with you," said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon he... | expected of him. "Just stop a moment," said Mr. Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do ... | at Louisa again, but her eyes were raised to his no more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his breath, "Heaven help us aw in this world!" he departed. CHAPTER VI FADING AWAY IT was falling dark when Stephen came out of Mr. Bounderby's house. The shadows of night had gathered so fast, that he did not loo... | Hard Times |
"Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," | The Old Woman | a doubtful glance at Rachael.<|quote|>"Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife,"</|quote|>returned the old woman. Stephen | be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael.<|quote|>"Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife,"</|quote|>returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to | thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael.<|quote|>"Suppose she be? She must be. She's your ma... | manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like... | of that house since noon to-day. So not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this good lass two or three times; and her face being so friendly I spoke to her, and she spoke to me. There!" said the old woman to Stephen, "you can make all the rest out for yourself... | again, you see." "But how wi' Rachael?" said Stephen, falling into their step, walking between them, and looking from the one to the other. "Why, I come to be with this good lass pretty much as I came to be with you," said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon herself. "My visiting time is later this year th... | Bounderby, excessively red in the face. "I told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bou... | two days, and get a bed to-night at the Travellers' Coffee House down by the railroad (a nice clean house), and go back Parliamentary, at six in the morning. Well, but what has this to do with this good lass, says you? I'm going to tell you. I have heard of Mr. Bounderby being married. I read it in the paper, where it ... | Hard Times |
returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. | No speaker | be. She's your master's wife,"<|quote|>returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent.</|quote|>"Though as to master," said | "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife,"<|quote|>returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent.</|quote|>"Though as to master," said he, glancing again at Rachael, | never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife,"<|quote|>returned the old woman. Stephen no... | natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, qu... | her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this good lass two or three times; and her face being so friendly I spoke to her, and she spoke to me. There!" said the old woman to Stephen, "you can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!" On... | into their step, walking between them, and looking from the one to the other. "Why, I come to be with this good lass pretty much as I came to be with you," said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon herself. "My visiting time is later this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of br... | last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always ... | railroad (a nice clean house), and go back Parliamentary, at six in the morning. Well, but what has this to do with this good lass, says you? I'm going to tell you. I have heard of Mr. Bounderby being married. I read it in the paper, where it looked grand oh, it looked fine!" the old woman dwelt on it with strange enth... | Hard Times |
"Though as to master," | Stephen Blackpool | old woman. Stephen nodded assent.<|quote|>"Though as to master,"</|quote|>said he, glancing again at | your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent.<|quote|>"Though as to master,"</|quote|>said he, glancing again at Rachael, "not master onny more. | handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent.<|quote|>"Though as to master,"<... | to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a... | about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this good lass two or three times; and her face being so friendly I spoke to her, and she spoke to me. There!" said the old woman to Stephen, "you can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!" Once again, Stephen had to conquer ... | looking from the one to the other. "Why, I come to be with this good lass pretty much as I came to be with you," said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon herself. "My visiting time is later this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather wa... | grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go abo... | out of Mr. Bounderby's house. The shadows of night had gathered so fast, that he did not look about him when he closed the door, but plodded straight along the street. Nothing was further from his thoughts than the curious old woman he had encountered on his previous visit to the same house, when he heard a step behind... | Hard Times |
said he, glancing again at Rachael, | No speaker | assent. "Though as to master,"<|quote|>said he, glancing again at Rachael,</|quote|>"not master onny more. That's | the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to master,"<|quote|>said he, glancing again at Rachael,</|quote|>"not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and | old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to master,"<|quote|>said he, glancing again at... | he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a ... | bit more, when I passed close to this good lass two or three times; and her face being so friendly I spoke to her, and she spoke to me. There!" said the old woman to Stephen, "you can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!" Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propen... | to the other. "Why, I come to be with this good lass pretty much as I came to be with you," said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon herself. "My visiting time is later this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For ... | better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raisin... | Stephen glanced at Louisa again, but her eyes were raised to his no more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his breath, "Heaven help us aw in this world!" he departed. CHAPTER VI FADING AWAY IT was falling dark when Stephen came out of Mr. Bounderby's house. The shadows of night had gathered so fast, tha... | Hard Times |
"not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and me." | Stephen Blackpool | he, glancing again at Rachael,<|quote|>"not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and me."</|quote|>"Have you left his work, | "Though as to master," said he, glancing again at Rachael,<|quote|>"not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and me."</|quote|>"Have you left his work, Stephen?" asked Rachael, anxiously and | as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to master," said he, glancing again at Rachael,<|quote|>"not master onny more. That'... | her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose sh... | to this good lass two or three times; and her face being so friendly I spoke to her, and she spoke to me. There!" said the old woman to Stephen, "you can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!" Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman... | to be with this good lass pretty much as I came to be with you," said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon herself. "My visiting time is later this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't mak... | of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of... | breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days, and get a bed to-night at the Travellers' Coffee House down by the railroad (a nice clean house), and go back Parliamentary, at six in the morning. Well, but what has th... | Hard Times |
"Have you left his work, Stephen?" | Rachel Gradgrind | enden 'twixt him and me."<|quote|>"Have you left his work, Stephen?"</|quote|>asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly. | master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and me."<|quote|>"Have you left his work, Stephen?"</|quote|>asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly. "Why, Rachael," he replied, "whether | suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to master," said he, glancing again at Rachael, "not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and me."<|quote|>"Have you left his w... | seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at ... | being so friendly I spoke to her, and she spoke to me. There!" said the old woman to Stephen, "you can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!" Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a m... | to be with you," said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon herself. "My visiting time is later this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into ... | I was up to the gold spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend." Stephen shook his head, mu... | year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days, and get a bed to-night at the Travellers' Coffee House down by the railroad (a nice clean house), and ... | Hard Times |
asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly. | No speaker | you left his work, Stephen?"<|quote|>asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly.</|quote|>"Why, Rachael," he replied, "whether | 'twixt him and me." "Have you left his work, Stephen?"<|quote|>asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly.</|quote|>"Why, Rachael," he replied, "whether I ha lef'n his work, | with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to master," said he, glancing again at Rachael, "not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and me." "Have you left his work, Stephen?"<|quote|>asked Rachael, anxio... | young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? Sh... | her, and she spoke to me. There!" said the old woman to Stephen, "you can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!" Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With... | old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon herself. "My visiting time is later this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days, and get a bed to... | spoon look-out." "I were not up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend." Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that ... | his previous visit to the same house, when he heard a step behind him that he knew, and turning, saw her in Rachael's company. He saw Rachael first, as he had heard her only. "Ah, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wi' her!" "Well, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say," the old woman returned. "... | Hard Times |
"Why, Rachael," | Stephen Blackpool | asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly.<|quote|>"Why, Rachael,"</|quote|>he replied, "whether I ha | you left his work, Stephen?" asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly.<|quote|>"Why, Rachael,"</|quote|>he replied, "whether I ha lef'n his work, or whether | Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to master," said he, glancing again at Rachael, "not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and me." "Have you left his work, Stephen?" asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly.<|quote|>"Why, Ra... | dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your maste... | me. There!" said the old woman to Stephen, "you can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!" Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was... | reply upon herself. "My visiting time is later this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days, and get a bed to-night at the Travellers' Coffee H... | up to 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend." Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had other business ... | no more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his breath, "Heaven help us aw in this world!" he departed. CHAPTER VI FADING AWAY IT was falling dark when Stephen came out of Mr. Bounderby's house. The shadows of night had gathered so fast, that he did not look about him when he closed the door, but plodded ... | Hard Times |
he replied, | No speaker | anxiously and quickly. "Why, Rachael,"<|quote|>he replied,</|quote|>"whether I ha lef'n his | his work, Stephen?" asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly. "Why, Rachael,"<|quote|>he replied,</|quote|>"whether I ha lef'n his work, or whether his work | she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to master," said he, glancing again at Rachael, "not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and me." "Have you left his work, Stephen?" asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly. "Why, Rachael,"<|quote|>he replied... | eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," re... | said the old woman to Stephen, "you can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!" Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural ... | herself. "My visiting time is later this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days, and get a bed to-night at the Travellers' Coffee House down b... | 't myseln, sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend." Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had other business to do ... | friendly I spoke to her, and she spoke to me. There!" said the old woman to Stephen, "you can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!" Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a manner pos... | Hard Times |
"whether I ha lef'n his work, or whether his work ha lef'n me, cooms t' th' same. His work and me are parted. 'Tis as weel so better, I were thinkin when yo coom up wi' me. It would ha brought'n trouble upon trouble if I had stayed theer. Haply 'tis a kindness to monny that I go; haply 'tis a kindness to myseln; anyway... | Stephen Blackpool | quickly. "Why, Rachael," he replied,<|quote|>"whether I ha lef'n his work, or whether his work ha lef'n me, cooms t' th' same. His work and me are parted. 'Tis as weel so better, I were thinkin when yo coom up wi' me. It would ha brought'n trouble upon trouble if I had stayed theer. Haply 'tis a kindness to monny that ... | Stephen?" asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly. "Why, Rachael," he replied,<|quote|>"whether I ha lef'n his work, or whether his work ha lef'n me, cooms t' th' same. His work and me are parted. 'Tis as weel so better, I were thinkin when yo coom up wi' me. It would ha brought'n trouble upon trouble if I had stayed thee... | She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to master," said he, glancing again at Rachael, "not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and me." "Have you left his work, Stephen?" asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly. "Why, Rachael," he replied,<|quote|>"wheth... | a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the... | old woman to Stephen, "you can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!" Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as... | visiting time is later this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days, and get a bed to-night at the Travellers' Coffee House down by the railroa... | sir; I do assure yo." "Now it's clear to me," said Mr. Bounderby, "that you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. That's the business of _your_ life, my friend." Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had other business to do for his lif... | no more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his breath, "Heaven help us aw in this world!" he departed. CHAPTER VI FADING AWAY IT was falling dark when Stephen came out of Mr. Bounderby's house. The shadows of night had gathered so fast, that he did not look about him when he closed the door, but plodded ... | Hard Times |
"Where will you go, Stephen?" | Rachel Gradgrind | fort'n, dear, by beginnin fresh."<|quote|>"Where will you go, Stephen?"</|quote|>"I donno t'night," said he, | th' time, and seek a fort'n, dear, by beginnin fresh."<|quote|>"Where will you go, Stephen?"</|quote|>"I donno t'night," said he, lifting off his hat, and | It would ha brought'n trouble upon trouble if I had stayed theer. Haply 'tis a kindness to monny that I go; haply 'tis a kindness to myseln; anyways it mun be done. I mun turn my face fro Coketown fur th' time, and seek a fort'n, dear, by beginnin fresh."<|quote|>"Where will you go, Stephen?"</|quote|>"I donno t'night,... | left his work, Stephen?" asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly. "Why, Rachael," he replied, "whether I ha lef'n his work, or whether his work ha lef'n me, cooms t' th' same. His work and me are parted. 'Tis as weel so better, I were thinkin when yo coom up wi' me. It would ha brought'n trouble upon trouble if I had stay... | lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. ... | says you? I'm going to tell you. I have heard of Mr. Bounderby being married. I read it in the paper, where it looked grand oh, it looked fine!" the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm: "and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't come out of that house since n... | to do with you. I never thought those fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then g... | woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes... | Hard Times |
"I donno t'night," | Stephen Blackpool | "Where will you go, Stephen?"<|quote|>"I donno t'night,"</|quote|>said he, lifting off his | fort'n, dear, by beginnin fresh." "Where will you go, Stephen?"<|quote|>"I donno t'night,"</|quote|>said he, lifting off his hat, and smoothing his thin | upon trouble if I had stayed theer. Haply 'tis a kindness to monny that I go; haply 'tis a kindness to myseln; anyways it mun be done. I mun turn my face fro Coketown fur th' time, and seek a fort'n, dear, by beginnin fresh." "Where will you go, Stephen?"<|quote|>"I donno t'night,"</|quote|>said he, lifting off his hat... | Rachael, anxiously and quickly. "Why, Rachael," he replied, "whether I ha lef'n his work, or whether his work ha lef'n me, cooms t' th' same. His work and me are parted. 'Tis as weel so better, I were thinkin when yo coom up wi' me. It would ha brought'n trouble upon trouble if I had stayed theer. Haply 'tis a kindness... | and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must... | tell you. I have heard of Mr. Bounderby being married. I read it in the paper, where it looked grand oh, it looked fine!" the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm: "and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't come out of that house since noon to-day. So not to g... | never thought those fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir... | manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way,... | Hard Times |
said he, lifting off his hat, and smoothing his thin hair with the flat of his hand. | No speaker | go, Stephen?" "I donno t'night,"<|quote|>said he, lifting off his hat, and smoothing his thin hair with the flat of his hand.</|quote|>"But I'm not goin t'night, | beginnin fresh." "Where will you go, Stephen?" "I donno t'night,"<|quote|>said he, lifting off his hat, and smoothing his thin hair with the flat of his hand.</|quote|>"But I'm not goin t'night, Rachael, nor yet t'morrow. 'Tan't | I had stayed theer. Haply 'tis a kindness to monny that I go; haply 'tis a kindness to myseln; anyways it mun be done. I mun turn my face fro Coketown fur th' time, and seek a fort'n, dear, by beginnin fresh." "Where will you go, Stephen?" "I donno t'night,"<|quote|>said he, lifting off his hat, and smoothing his thin ... | quickly. "Why, Rachael," he replied, "whether I ha lef'n his work, or whether his work ha lef'n me, cooms t' th' same. His work and me are parted. 'Tis as weel so better, I were thinkin when yo coom up wi' me. It would ha brought'n trouble upon trouble if I had stayed theer. Haply 'tis a kindness to monny that I go; ha... | fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your ... | have heard of Mr. Bounderby being married. I read it in the paper, where it looked grand oh, it looked fine!" the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm: "and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't come out of that house since noon to-day. So not to give her up t... | fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," sai... | pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a hap... | Hard Times |
"But I'm not goin t'night, Rachael, nor yet t'morrow. 'Tan't easy overmuch t' know wheer t' turn, but a good heart will coom to me." | Stephen Blackpool | the flat of his hand.<|quote|>"But I'm not goin t'night, Rachael, nor yet t'morrow. 'Tan't easy overmuch t' know wheer t' turn, but a good heart will coom to me."</|quote|>Herein, too, the sense of | smoothing his thin hair with the flat of his hand.<|quote|>"But I'm not goin t'night, Rachael, nor yet t'morrow. 'Tan't easy overmuch t' know wheer t' turn, but a good heart will coom to me."</|quote|>Herein, too, the sense of even thinking unselfishly aided him. | to myseln; anyways it mun be done. I mun turn my face fro Coketown fur th' time, and seek a fort'n, dear, by beginnin fresh." "Where will you go, Stephen?" "I donno t'night," said he, lifting off his hat, and smoothing his thin hair with the flat of his hand.<|quote|>"But I'm not goin t'night, Rachael, nor yet t'morrow... | me, cooms t' th' same. His work and me are parted. 'Tis as weel so better, I were thinkin when yo coom up wi' me. It would ha brought'n trouble upon trouble if I had stayed theer. Haply 'tis a kindness to monny that I go; haply 'tis a kindness to myseln; anyways it mun be done. I mun turn my face fro Coketown fur th' t... | "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to master... | oh, it looked fine!" the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm: "and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't come out of that house since noon to-day. So not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this good ... | them for a novelty, that _I_'ll have nothing to do with you either." Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. "You can finish off what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewhe... | the one to the other. "Why, I come to be with this good lass pretty much as I came to be with you," said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon herself. "My visiting time is later this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and wa... | Hard Times |
Herein, too, the sense of even thinking unselfishly aided him. Before he had so much as closed Mr. Bounderby's door, he had reflected that at least his being obliged to go away was good for her, as it would save her from the chance of being brought into question for not withdrawing from him. Though it would cost him a ... | No speaker | heart will coom to me."<|quote|>Herein, too, the sense of even thinking unselfishly aided him. Before he had so much as closed Mr. Bounderby's door, he had reflected that at least his being obliged to go away was good for her, as it would save her from the chance of being brought into question for not withdrawing from ... | t' turn, but a good heart will coom to me."<|quote|>Herein, too, the sense of even thinking unselfishly aided him. Before he had so much as closed Mr. Bounderby's door, he had reflected that at least his being obliged to go away was good for her, as it would save her from the chance of being brought into question for n... | "Where will you go, Stephen?" "I donno t'night," said he, lifting off his hat, and smoothing his thin hair with the flat of his hand. "But I'm not goin t'night, Rachael, nor yet t'morrow. 'Tan't easy overmuch t' know wheer t' turn, but a good heart will coom to me."<|quote|>Herein, too, the sense of even thinking unsel... | It would ha brought'n trouble upon trouble if I had stayed theer. Haply 'tis a kindness to monny that I go; haply 'tis a kindness to myseln; anyways it mun be done. I mun turn my face fro Coketown fur th' time, and seek a fort'n, dear, by beginnin fresh." "Where will you go, Stephen?" "I donno t'night," said he, liftin... | be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to master," said he, glancing again at Rachael, "not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and me." "Have you left his work, Stephen?" asked... | yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't come out of that house since noon to-day. So not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this good lass two or three times; and her face being so friendly I spoke to her, and she spoke to me. There!" said the old woman to ... | what you're at," said Mr. Bounderby, with a meaning nod, "and then go elsewhere." "Sir, yo know weel," said Stephen expressively, "that if I canna get work wi' yo, I canna get it elsewheer." The reply was, "What I know, I know; and what you know, you know. I have no more to say about it." Stephen glanced at Louisa agai... | but what has this to do with this good lass, says you? I'm going to tell you. I have heard of Mr. Bounderby being married. I read it in the paper, where it looked grand oh, it looked fine!" the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm: "and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe ... | Hard Times |
"I'm more leetsome, Rachael, under 't, than I could'n ha believed." | Stephen Blackpool | So he said, with truth,<|quote|>"I'm more leetsome, Rachael, under 't, than I could'n ha believed."</|quote|>It was not her part | to unknown difficulties and distresses. So he said, with truth,<|quote|>"I'm more leetsome, Rachael, under 't, than I could'n ha believed."</|quote|>It was not her part to make his burden heavier. | pang to leave her, and though he could think of no similar place in which his condemnation would not pursue him, perhaps it was almost a relief to be forced away from the endurance of the last four days, even to unknown difficulties and distresses. So he said, with truth,<|quote|>"I'm more leetsome, Rachael, under 't, ... | he had so much as closed Mr. Bounderby's door, he had reflected that at least his being obliged to go away was good for her, as it would save her from the chance of being brought into question for not withdrawing from him. Though it would cost him a hard pang to leave her, and though he could think of no similar place ... | theer. Haply 'tis a kindness to monny that I go; haply 'tis a kindness to myseln; anyways it mun be done. I mun turn my face fro Coketown fur th' time, and seek a fort'n, dear, by beginnin fresh." "Where will you go, Stephen?" "I donno t'night," said he, lifting off his hat, and smoothing his thin hair with the flat of... | possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "... | so fast, that he did not look about him when he closed the door, but plodded straight along the street. Nothing was further from his thoughts than the curious old woman he had encountered on his previous visit to the same house, when he heard a step behind him that he knew, and turning, saw her in Rachael's company. He... | I had stayed theer. Haply 'tis a kindness to monny that I go; haply 'tis a kindness to myseln; anyways it mun be done. I mun turn my face fro Coketown fur th' time, and seek a fort'n, dear, by beginnin fresh." "Where will you go, Stephen?" "I donno t'night," said he, lifting off his hat, and smoothing his thin hair wit... | Hard Times |
It was not her part to make his burden heavier. She answered with her comforting smile, and the three walked on together. Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so light of her infirmities, though they... | No speaker | than I could'n ha believed."<|quote|>It was not her part to make his burden heavier. She answered with her comforting smile, and the three walked on together. Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so ... | more leetsome, Rachael, under 't, than I could'n ha believed."<|quote|>It was not her part to make his burden heavier. She answered with her comforting smile, and the three walked on together. Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so ... | similar place in which his condemnation would not pursue him, perhaps it was almost a relief to be forced away from the endurance of the last four days, even to unknown difficulties and distresses. So he said, with truth, "I'm more leetsome, Rachael, under 't, than I could'n ha believed."<|quote|>It was not her part to... | reflected that at least his being obliged to go away was good for her, as it would save her from the chance of being brought into question for not withdrawing from him. Though it would cost him a hard pang to leave her, and though he could think of no similar place in which his condemnation would not pursue him, perhap... | 'tis a kindness to myseln; anyways it mun be done. I mun turn my face fro Coketown fur th' time, and seek a fort'n, dear, by beginnin fresh." "Where will you go, Stephen?" "I donno t'night," said he, lifting off his hat, and smoothing his thin hair with the flat of his hand. "But I'm not goin t'night, Rachael, nor yet ... | him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delight... | closed the door, but plodded straight along the street. Nothing was further from his thoughts than the curious old woman he had encountered on his previous visit to the same house, when he heard a step behind him that he knew, and turning, saw her in Rachael's company. He saw Rachael first, as he had heard her only. "A... | grand oh, it looked fine!" the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm: "and I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if you'll believe me, she hasn't come out of that house since noon to-day. So not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this... | Hard Times |
"Come to my poor place, missus," | Stephen Blackpool | brisk and vivacious than ever.<|quote|>"Come to my poor place, missus,"</|quote|>said Stephen, "and tak a | the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever.<|quote|>"Come to my poor place, missus,"</|quote|>said Stephen, "and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will | was too sprightly to allow of their walking at a slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever.<|quote|>"Come to my poor place, missus,"</|quote|>said Stephen, "and tak... | when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so light of her infirmities, though they had increased upon her since her former interview with Stephen, that they both took an interest in her. She was too sprightly to allow of... | brought into question for not withdrawing from him. Though it would cost him a hard pang to leave her, and though he could think of no similar place in which his condemnation would not pursue him, perhaps it was almost a relief to be forced away from the endurance of the last four days, even to unknown difficulties and... | and me." "Have you left his work, Stephen?" asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly. "Why, Rachael," he replied, "whether I ha lef'n his work, or whether his work ha lef'n me, cooms t' th' same. His work and me are parted. 'Tis as weel so better, I were thinkin when yo coom up wi' me. It would ha brought'n trouble upon tr... | I came to be with you," said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon herself. "My visiting time is later this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide i... | Before he had so much as closed Mr. Bounderby's door, he had reflected that at least his being obliged to go away was good for her, as it would save her from the chance of being brought into question for not withdrawing from him. Though it would cost him a hard pang to leave her, and though he could think of no similar... | Hard Times |
said Stephen, | No speaker | to my poor place, missus,"<|quote|>said Stephen,</|quote|>"and tak a coop o' | and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus,"<|quote|>said Stephen,</|quote|>"and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then; | their walking at a slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus,"<|quote|>said Stephen,</|quote|>"and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will c... | and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so light of her infirmities, though they had increased upon her since her former interview with Stephen, that they both took an interest in her. She was too sprightly to allow of their walking at a slow pace on he... | from him. Though it would cost him a hard pang to leave her, and though he could think of no similar place in which his condemnation would not pursue him, perhaps it was almost a relief to be forced away from the endurance of the last four days, even to unknown difficulties and distresses. So he said, with truth, "I'm ... | work, Stephen?" asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly. "Why, Rachael," he replied, "whether I ha lef'n his work, or whether his work ha lef'n me, cooms t' th' same. His work and me are parted. 'Tis as weel so better, I were thinkin when yo coom up wi' me. It would ha brought'n trouble upon trouble if I had stayed theer.... | said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon herself. "My visiting time is later this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days, and get... | With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome.... | Hard Times |
"and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then; and arterwards I'll see thee safe t' thy Travellers' lodgin. 'T may be long, Rachael, ere ever I ha th' chance o' thy coompany agen." | Stephen Blackpool | poor place, missus," said Stephen,<|quote|>"and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then; and arterwards I'll see thee safe t' thy Travellers' lodgin. 'T may be long, Rachael, ere ever I ha th' chance o' thy coompany agen."</|quote|>They complied, and the three | than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said Stephen,<|quote|>"and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then; and arterwards I'll see thee safe t' thy Travellers' lodgin. 'T may be long, Rachael, ere ever I ha th' chance o' thy coompany agen."</|quote|>They complied, and the three went on to the house | at a slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said Stephen,<|quote|>"and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then; and arterward... | finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so light of her infirmities, though they had increased upon her since her former interview with Stephen, that they both took an interest in her. She was too sprightly to allow of their walking at a slow pace on her account, but... | Though it would cost him a hard pang to leave her, and though he could think of no similar place in which his condemnation would not pursue him, perhaps it was almost a relief to be forced away from the endurance of the last four days, even to unknown difficulties and distresses. So he said, with truth, "I'm more leets... | asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly. "Why, Rachael," he replied, "whether I ha lef'n his work, or whether his work ha lef'n me, cooms t' th' same. His work and me are parted. 'Tis as weel so better, I were thinkin when yo coom up wi' me. It would ha brought'n trouble upon trouble if I had stayed theer. Haply 'tis a ki... | old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon herself. "My visiting time is later this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days, and get a bed to... | will you go, Stephen?" "I donno t'night," said he, lifting off his hat, and smoothing his thin hair with the flat of his hand. "But I'm not goin t'night, Rachael, nor yet t'morrow. 'Tan't easy overmuch t' know wheer t' turn, but a good heart will coom to me." Herein, too, the sense of even thinking unselfishly aided hi... | Hard Times |
They complied, and the three went on to the house where he lodged. When they turned into a narrow street, Stephen glanced at his window with a dread that always haunted his desolate home; but it was open, as he had left it, and no one was there. The evil spirit of his life had flitted away again, months ago, and he had... | No speaker | chance o' thy coompany agen."<|quote|>They complied, and the three went on to the house where he lodged. When they turned into a narrow street, Stephen glanced at his window with a dread that always haunted his desolate home; but it was open, as he had left it, and no one was there. The evil spirit of his life had flit... | ere ever I ha th' chance o' thy coompany agen."<|quote|>They complied, and the three went on to the house where he lodged. When they turned into a narrow street, Stephen glanced at his window with a dread that always haunted his desolate home; but it was open, as he had left it, and no one was there. The evil spirit of... | was more brisk and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said Stephen, "and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then; and arterwards I'll see thee safe t' thy Travellers' lodgin. 'T may be long, Rachael, ere ever I ha th' chance o' thy coompany agen."<|quote|>They complied, and the three went on to the... | both took an interest in her. She was too sprightly to allow of their walking at a slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said ... | be forced away from the endurance of the last four days, even to unknown difficulties and distresses. So he said, with truth, "I'm more leetsome, Rachael, under 't, than I could'n ha believed." It was not her part to make his burden heavier. She answered with her comforting smile, and the three walked on together. Age,... | so better, I were thinkin when yo coom up wi' me. It would ha brought'n trouble upon trouble if I had stayed theer. Haply 'tis a kindness to monny that I go; haply 'tis a kindness to myseln; anyways it mun be done. I mun turn my face fro Coketown fur th' time, and seek a fort'n, dear, by beginnin fresh." "Where will yo... | was fine and warm. For the same reason I don't make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days, and get a bed to-night at the Travellers' Coffee House down by the railroad (a nice clean house), and go back Parliamentary, at six in the morning. Well, but what has this to do with this good lass, says you? I'm... | Stephen?" asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly. "Why, Rachael," he replied, "whether I ha lef'n his work, or whether his work ha lef'n me, cooms t' th' same. His work and me are parted. 'Tis as weel so better, I were thinkin when yo coom up wi' me. It would ha brought'n trouble upon trouble if I had stayed theer. Haply... | Hard Times |
"I ha never thowt yet, missus," | Stephen Blackpool | part of these people, sir.<|quote|>"I ha never thowt yet, missus,"</|quote|>said Stephen, "o' askin thy | want of calculation on the part of these people, sir.<|quote|>"I ha never thowt yet, missus,"</|quote|>said Stephen, "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced | enjoyed it mightily. It was the first glimpse of sociality the host had had for many days. He too, with the world a wide heath before him, enjoyed the meal again in corroboration of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir.<|quote|>"I ha never thowt yet, missus,"</|qu... | shop. The bread was new and crusty, the butter fresh, and the sugar lump, of course in fulfilment of the standard testimony of the Coketown magnates, that these people lived like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so large a party necessitated the borrowing of a cup), and the visitor enjoyed it mightily. It was the fi... | at his window with a dread that always haunted his desolate home; but it was open, as he had left it, and no one was there. The evil spirit of his life had flitted away again, months ago, and he had heard no more of her since. The only evidence of her last return now, were the scantier moveables in his room, and the gr... | "I'm more leetsome, Rachael, under 't, than I could'n ha believed." It was not her part to make his burden heavier. She answered with her comforting smile, and the three walked on together. Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so dec... | possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "... | too, the sense of even thinking unselfishly aided him. Before he had so much as closed Mr. Bounderby's door, he had reflected that at least his being obliged to go away was good for her, as it would save her from the chance of being brought into question for not withdrawing from him. Though it would cost him a hard pan... | Hard Times |
said Stephen, | No speaker | ha never thowt yet, missus,"<|quote|>said Stephen,</|quote|>"o' askin thy name." The | of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus,"<|quote|>said Stephen,</|quote|>"o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as | first glimpse of sociality the host had had for many days. He too, with the world a wide heath before him, enjoyed the meal again in corroboration of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus,"<|quote|>said Stephen,</|quote|>"o' askin thy... | crusty, the butter fresh, and the sugar lump, of course in fulfilment of the standard testimony of the Coketown magnates, that these people lived like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so large a party necessitated the borrowing of a cup), and the visitor enjoyed it mightily. It was the first glimpse of sociality the... | that always haunted his desolate home; but it was open, as he had left it, and no one was there. The evil spirit of his life had flitted away again, months ago, and he had heard no more of her since. The only evidence of her last return now, were the scantier moveables in his room, and the grayer hair upon his head. He... | than I could'n ha believed." It was not her part to make his burden heavier. She answered with her comforting smile, and the three walked on together. Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so light of... | that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the o... | took an interest in her. She was too sprightly to allow of their walking at a slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said Steph... | Hard Times |
"o' askin thy name." | Stephen Blackpool | thowt yet, missus," said Stephen,<|quote|>"o' askin thy name."</|quote|>The old lady announced herself | people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen,<|quote|>"o' askin thy name."</|quote|>The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, | of sociality the host had had for many days. He too, with the world a wide heath before him, enjoyed the meal again in corroboration of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen,<|quote|>"o' askin thy name."</|quote|>The ol... | butter fresh, and the sugar lump, of course in fulfilment of the standard testimony of the Coketown magnates, that these people lived like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so large a party necessitated the borrowing of a cup), and the visitor enjoyed it mightily. It was the first glimpse of sociality the host had ha... | haunted his desolate home; but it was open, as he had left it, and no one was there. The evil spirit of his life had flitted away again, months ago, and he had heard no more of her since. The only evidence of her last return now, were the scantier moveables in his room, and the grayer hair upon his head. He lighted a c... | could'n ha believed." It was not her part to make his burden heavier. She answered with her comforting smile, and the three walked on together. Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so light of her in... | as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman,... | and arterwards I'll see thee safe t' thy Travellers' lodgin. 'T may be long, Rachael, ere ever I ha th' chance o' thy coompany agen." They complied, and the three went on to the house where he lodged. When they turned into a narrow street, Stephen glanced at his window with a dread that always haunted his desolate home... | Hard Times |
The old lady announced herself as | No speaker | Stephen, "o' askin thy name."<|quote|>The old lady announced herself as</|quote|>"Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I | never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name."<|quote|>The old lady announced herself as</|quote|>"Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I think?" said Stephen. "Oh, many | had had for many days. He too, with the world a wide heath before him, enjoyed the meal again in corroboration of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name."<|quote|>The old lady announced herself as</|q... | sugar lump, of course in fulfilment of the standard testimony of the Coketown magnates, that these people lived like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so large a party necessitated the borrowing of a cup), and the visitor enjoyed it mightily. It was the first glimpse of sociality the host had had for many days. He to... | but it was open, as he had left it, and no one was there. The evil spirit of his life had flitted away again, months ago, and he had heard no more of her since. The only evidence of her last return now, were the scantier moveables in his room, and the grayer hair upon his head. He lighted a candle, set out his little t... | was not her part to make his burden heavier. She answered with her comforting smile, and the three walked on together. Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so light of her infirmities, though they ha... | as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. ... | strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so light of her infirmities, though they had increased upon her since her former interview with Stephen, that they both took an interest in her. She was too sprightly to allow of their w... | Hard Times |
"Mrs. Pegler." | The Old Woman | old lady announced herself as<|quote|>"Mrs. Pegler."</|quote|>"A widder, I think?" said | "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as<|quote|>"Mrs. Pegler."</|quote|>"A widder, I think?" said Stephen. "Oh, many long years!" | too, with the world a wide heath before him, enjoyed the meal again in corroboration of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as<|quote|>"Mrs. Pegler."</|quote|>"A wi... | of the standard testimony of the Coketown magnates, that these people lived like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so large a party necessitated the borrowing of a cup), and the visitor enjoyed it mightily. It was the first glimpse of sociality the host had had for many days. He too, with the world a wide heath befor... | had left it, and no one was there. The evil spirit of his life had flitted away again, months ago, and he had heard no more of her since. The only evidence of her last return now, were the scantier moveables in his room, and the grayer hair upon his head. He lighted a candle, set out his little tea-board, got hot water... | his burden heavier. She answered with her comforting smile, and the three walked on together. Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so light of her infirmities, though they had increased upon her sinc... | to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose!... | he said, with truth, "I'm more leetsome, Rachael, under 't, than I could'n ha believed." It was not her part to make his burden heavier. She answered with her comforting smile, and the three walked on together. Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The... | Hard Times |
"A widder, I think?" | Stephen Blackpool | announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler."<|quote|>"A widder, I think?"</|quote|>said Stephen. "Oh, many long | thy name." The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler."<|quote|>"A widder, I think?"</|quote|>said Stephen. "Oh, many long years!" Mrs. Pegler's husband (one | the world a wide heath before him, enjoyed the meal again in corroboration of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler."<|quote|>"A widder, I think?"</|q... | standard testimony of the Coketown magnates, that these people lived like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so large a party necessitated the borrowing of a cup), and the visitor enjoyed it mightily. It was the first glimpse of sociality the host had had for many days. He too, with the world a wide heath before him, ... | it, and no one was there. The evil spirit of his life had flitted away again, months ago, and he had heard no more of her since. The only evidence of her last return now, were the scantier moveables in his room, and the grayer hair upon his head. He lighted a candle, set out his little tea-board, got hot water from bel... | heavier. She answered with her comforting smile, and the three walked on together. Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so light of her infirmities, though they had increased upon her since her forme... | he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a ... | will coom then; and arterwards I'll see thee safe t' thy Travellers' lodgin. 'T may be long, Rachael, ere ever I ha th' chance o' thy coompany agen." They complied, and the three went on to the house where he lodged. When they turned into a narrow street, Stephen glanced at his window with a dread that always haunted h... | Hard Times |
said Stephen. | No speaker | Pegler." "A widder, I think?"<|quote|>said Stephen.</|quote|>"Oh, many long years!" Mrs. | lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I think?"<|quote|>said Stephen.</|quote|>"Oh, many long years!" Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of the | heath before him, enjoyed the meal again in corroboration of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I think?"<|quote|>said Stephen.</|quot... | Coketown magnates, that these people lived like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so large a party necessitated the borrowing of a cup), and the visitor enjoyed it mightily. It was the first glimpse of sociality the host had had for many days. He too, with the world a wide heath before him, enjoyed the meal again in ... | was there. The evil spirit of his life had flitted away again, months ago, and he had heard no more of her since. The only evidence of her last return now, were the scantier moveables in his room, and the grayer hair upon his head. He lighted a candle, set out his little tea-board, got hot water from below, and brought... | her comforting smile, and the three walked on together. Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so light of her infirmities, though they had increased upon her since her former interview with Stephen, t... | that interested her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, miss... | their walking at a slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said Stephen, "and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then; and art... | Hard Times |
"Oh, many long years!" | The Old Woman | widder, I think?" said Stephen.<|quote|>"Oh, many long years!"</|quote|>Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of | herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I think?" said Stephen.<|quote|>"Oh, many long years!"</|quote|>Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of the best on record) was | him, enjoyed the meal again in corroboration of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I think?" said Stephen.<|quote|>"Oh, many long year... | that these people lived like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so large a party necessitated the borrowing of a cup), and the visitor enjoyed it mightily. It was the first glimpse of sociality the host had had for many days. He too, with the world a wide heath before him, enjoyed the meal again in corroboration of th... | The evil spirit of his life had flitted away again, months ago, and he had heard no more of her since. The only evidence of her last return now, were the scantier moveables in his room, and the grayer hair upon his head. He lighted a candle, set out his little tea-board, got hot water from below, and brought in small p... | smile, and the three walked on together. Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so light of her infirmities, though they had increased upon her since her former interview with Stephen, that they both t... | her in her old age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose sh... | allow of their walking at a slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said Stephen, "and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then... | Hard Times |
Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of the best on record) was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was born. | No speaker | Stephen. "Oh, many long years!"<|quote|>Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of the best on record) was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was born.</|quote|>"'Twere a bad job, too, | "A widder, I think?" said Stephen. "Oh, many long years!"<|quote|>Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of the best on record) was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was born.</|quote|>"'Twere a bad job, too, to lose so good a | again in corroboration of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I think?" said Stephen. "Oh, many long years!"<|quote|>Mrs. Pegler's husb... | like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so large a party necessitated the borrowing of a cup), and the visitor enjoyed it mightily. It was the first glimpse of sociality the host had had for many days. He too, with the world a wide heath before him, enjoyed the meal again in corroboration of the magnates, as exemplify... | his life had flitted away again, months ago, and he had heard no more of her since. The only evidence of her last return now, were the scantier moveables in his room, and the grayer hair upon his head. He lighted a candle, set out his little tea-board, got hot water from below, and brought in small portions of tea and ... | walked on together. Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so light of her infirmities, though they had increased upon her since her former interview with Stephen, that they both took an interest in he... | age. "Well, missus," said he, "I ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. Wi' fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Ste... | was not her part to make his burden heavier. She answered with her comforting smile, and the three walked on together. Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so light of her infirmities, though they ha... | Hard Times |
"'Twere a bad job, too, to lose so good a one," | Stephen Blackpool | calculation, when Stephen was born.<|quote|>"'Twere a bad job, too, to lose so good a one,"</|quote|>said Stephen. "Onny children?" Mrs. | already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was born.<|quote|>"'Twere a bad job, too, to lose so good a one,"</|quote|>said Stephen. "Onny children?" Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against her | "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I think?" said Stephen. "Oh, many long years!" Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of the best on record) was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was born.<|quote|>"'Twere a bad job... | enjoyed it mightily. It was the first glimpse of sociality the host had had for many days. He too, with the world a wide heath before him, enjoyed the meal again in corroboration of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen... | of her last return now, were the scantier moveables in his room, and the grayer hair upon his head. He lighted a candle, set out his little tea-board, got hot water from below, and brought in small portions of tea and sugar, a loaf, and some butter from the nearest shop. The bread was new and crusty, the butter fresh, ... | old woman was so decent and contented, and made so light of her infirmities, though they had increased upon her since her former interview with Stephen, that they both took an interest in her. She was too sprightly to allow of their walking at a slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and v... | eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," re... | cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so light of her infirmities, though they had increased upon her since her former interview with Stephen, that they both took an interest in her. She was too sprightly to allow of their walking at a slow pace on her ac... | Hard Times |
said Stephen. | No speaker | lose so good a one,"<|quote|>said Stephen.</|quote|>"Onny children?" Mrs. Pegler's cup, | a bad job, too, to lose so good a one,"<|quote|>said Stephen.</|quote|>"Onny children?" Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against her saucer as | name." The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I think?" said Stephen. "Oh, many long years!" Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of the best on record) was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was born. "'Twere a bad job, too, to lose so good a one,"<|quote|>said Stephen.</|quote|>"Onny ... | host had had for many days. He too, with the world a wide heath before him, enjoyed the meal again in corroboration of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. ... | room, and the grayer hair upon his head. He lighted a candle, set out his little tea-board, got hot water from below, and brought in small portions of tea and sugar, a loaf, and some butter from the nearest shop. The bread was new and crusty, the butter fresh, and the sugar lump, of course in fulfilment of the standard... | of her infirmities, though they had increased upon her since her former interview with Stephen, that they both took an interest in her. She was too sprightly to allow of their walking at a slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to ... | the like on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Thoug... | evil spirit of his life had flitted away again, months ago, and he had heard no more of her since. The only evidence of her last return now, were the scantier moveables in his room, and the grayer hair upon his head. He lighted a candle, set out his little tea-board, got hot water from below, and brought in small porti... | Hard Times |
"Onny children?" | Stephen Blackpool | good a one," said Stephen.<|quote|>"Onny children?"</|quote|>Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against | job, too, to lose so good a one," said Stephen.<|quote|>"Onny children?"</|quote|>Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against her saucer as she held | old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I think?" said Stephen. "Oh, many long years!" Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of the best on record) was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was born. "'Twere a bad job, too, to lose so good a one," said Stephen.<|quote|>"Onny children?"</|quote|>... | had for many days. He too, with the world a wide heath before him, enjoyed the meal again in corroboration of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." ... | the grayer hair upon his head. He lighted a candle, set out his little tea-board, got hot water from below, and brought in small portions of tea and sugar, a loaf, and some butter from the nearest shop. The bread was new and crusty, the butter fresh, and the sugar lump, of course in fulfilment of the standard testimony... | infirmities, though they had increased upon her since her former interview with Stephen, that they both took an interest in her. She was too sprightly to allow of their walking at a slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their p... | on." "Young and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to m... | 't, than I could'n ha believed." It was not her part to make his burden heavier. She answered with her comforting smile, and the three walked on together. Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so ligh... | Hard Times |
Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against her saucer as she held it, denoted some nervousness on her part. | No speaker | one," said Stephen. "Onny children?"<|quote|>Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against her saucer as she held it, denoted some nervousness on her part.</|quote|>"No," she said. "Not now, | to lose so good a one," said Stephen. "Onny children?"<|quote|>Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against her saucer as she held it, denoted some nervousness on her part.</|quote|>"No," she said. "Not now, not now." "Dead, Stephen," Rachael | announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I think?" said Stephen. "Oh, many long years!" Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of the best on record) was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was born. "'Twere a bad job, too, to lose so good a one," said Stephen. "Onny children?"<|quote|>Mrs. Pegler's cup,... | many days. He too, with the world a wide heath before him, enjoyed the meal again in corroboration of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widde... | hair upon his head. He lighted a candle, set out his little tea-board, got hot water from below, and brought in small portions of tea and sugar, a loaf, and some butter from the nearest shop. The bread was new and crusty, the butter fresh, and the sugar lump, of course in fulfilment of the standard testimony of the Cok... | they had increased upon her since her former interview with Stephen, that they both took an interest in her. She was too sprightly to allow of their walking at a slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she... | and handsome. Yes!" cried the old woman, quite delighted. "As bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to master," said... | very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said Stephen, "and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then; and arterwards I'll see thee safe t' thy Travellers' lodgin. 'T may be long, Rachael, ere ever I ha... | Hard Times |
"No," | The Old Woman | some nervousness on her part.<|quote|>"No,"</|quote|>she said. "Not now, not | as she held it, denoted some nervousness on her part.<|quote|>"No,"</|quote|>she said. "Not now, not now." "Dead, Stephen," Rachael softly | husband (one of the best on record) was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was born. "'Twere a bad job, too, to lose so good a one," said Stephen. "Onny children?" Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against her saucer as she held it, denoted some nervousness on her part.<|quote|>"No,"</|quote|>she said. ... | corroboration of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I think?" said Stephen. "Oh, many long years!" Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of the b... | below, and brought in small portions of tea and sugar, a loaf, and some butter from the nearest shop. The bread was new and crusty, the butter fresh, and the sugar lump, of course in fulfilment of the standard testimony of the Coketown magnates, that these people lived like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so large ... | in her. She was too sprightly to allow of their walking at a slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said Stephen, "and tak a co... | happy wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to master," said he, glancing again at Rachael, "not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and me."... | street, Stephen glanced at his window with a dread that always haunted his desolate home; but it was open, as he had left it, and no one was there. The evil spirit of his life had flitted away again, months ago, and he had heard no more of her since. The only evidence of her last return now, were the scantier moveables... | Hard Times |
she said. | No speaker | nervousness on her part. "No,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"Not now, not now." "Dead, | she held it, denoted some nervousness on her part. "No,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"Not now, not now." "Dead, Stephen," Rachael softly hinted. "I'm | (one of the best on record) was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was born. "'Twere a bad job, too, to lose so good a one," said Stephen. "Onny children?" Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against her saucer as she held it, denoted some nervousness on her part. "No,"<|quote|>she said.</|quote|>"Not now... | of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I think?" said Stephen. "Oh, many long years!" Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of the best on record)... | and brought in small portions of tea and sugar, a loaf, and some butter from the nearest shop. The bread was new and crusty, the butter fresh, and the sugar lump, of course in fulfilment of the standard testimony of the Coketown magnates, that these people lived like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so large a party... | her. She was too sprightly to allow of their walking at a slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said Stephen, "and tak a coop ... | wife!" "Aye, missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to master," said he, glancing again at Rachael, "not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and me." "Have... | Rachael, under 't, than I could'n ha believed." It was not her part to make his burden heavier. She answered with her comforting smile, and the three walked on together. Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, a... | Hard Times |
"Not now, not now." | The Old Woman | her part. "No," she said.<|quote|>"Not now, not now."</|quote|>"Dead, Stephen," Rachael softly hinted. | it, denoted some nervousness on her part. "No," she said.<|quote|>"Not now, not now."</|quote|>"Dead, Stephen," Rachael softly hinted. "I'm sooary I ha spok'n | the best on record) was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was born. "'Twere a bad job, too, to lose so good a one," said Stephen. "Onny children?" Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against her saucer as she held it, denoted some nervousness on her part. "No," she said.<|quote|>"Not now, not now."</|quo... | magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I think?" said Stephen. "Oh, many long years!" Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of the best on record) was al... | in small portions of tea and sugar, a loaf, and some butter from the nearest shop. The bread was new and crusty, the butter fresh, and the sugar lump, of course in fulfilment of the standard testimony of the Coketown magnates, that these people lived like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so large a party necessitate... | was too sprightly to allow of their walking at a slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said Stephen, "and tak a coop o' tea. R... | missus, I suppose she be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to master," said he, glancing again at Rachael, "not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and me." "Have you left his... | which his condemnation would not pursue him, perhaps it was almost a relief to be forced away from the endurance of the last four days, even to unknown difficulties and distresses. So he said, with truth, "I'm more leetsome, Rachael, under 't, than I could'n ha believed." It was not her part to make his burden heavier.... | Hard Times |
"Dead, Stephen," | Rachel Gradgrind | said. "Not now, not now."<|quote|>"Dead, Stephen,"</|quote|>Rachael softly hinted. "I'm sooary | on her part. "No," she said. "Not now, not now."<|quote|>"Dead, Stephen,"</|quote|>Rachael softly hinted. "I'm sooary I ha spok'n on 't," | was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was born. "'Twere a bad job, too, to lose so good a one," said Stephen. "Onny children?" Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against her saucer as she held it, denoted some nervousness on her part. "No," she said. "Not now, not now."<|quote|>"Dead, Stephen,"</|quote|... | utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I think?" said Stephen. "Oh, many long years!" Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of the best on record) was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's c... | tea and sugar, a loaf, and some butter from the nearest shop. The bread was new and crusty, the butter fresh, and the sugar lump, of course in fulfilment of the standard testimony of the Coketown magnates, that these people lived like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so large a party necessitated the borrowing of a ... | allow of their walking at a slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said Stephen, "and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then... | be," said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to master," said he, glancing again at Rachael, "not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and me." "Have you left his work, Stephen?" asked... | the three went on to the house where he lodged. When they turned into a narrow street, Stephen glanced at his window with a dread that always haunted his desolate home; but it was open, as he had left it, and no one was there. The evil spirit of his life had flitted away again, months ago, and he had heard no more of h... | Hard Times |
Rachael softly hinted. | No speaker | now, not now." "Dead, Stephen,"<|quote|>Rachael softly hinted.</|quote|>"I'm sooary I ha spok'n | part. "No," she said. "Not now, not now." "Dead, Stephen,"<|quote|>Rachael softly hinted.</|quote|>"I'm sooary I ha spok'n on 't," said Stephen, "I | dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was born. "'Twere a bad job, too, to lose so good a one," said Stephen. "Onny children?" Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against her saucer as she held it, denoted some nervousness on her part. "No," she said. "Not now, not now." "Dead, Stephen,"<|quote|>Rachael softly hinte... | of calculation on the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I think?" said Stephen. "Oh, many long years!" Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of the best on record) was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation,... | sugar, a loaf, and some butter from the nearest shop. The bread was new and crusty, the butter fresh, and the sugar lump, of course in fulfilment of the standard testimony of the Coketown magnates, that these people lived like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so large a party necessitated the borrowing of a cup), an... | their walking at a slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said Stephen, "and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then; and art... | Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to master," said he, glancing again at Rachael, "not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and me." "Have you left his work, Stephen?" asked Rachael, ... | The only evidence of her last return now, were the scantier moveables in his room, and the grayer hair upon his head. He lighted a candle, set out his little tea-board, got hot water from below, and brought in small portions of tea and sugar, a loaf, and some butter from the nearest shop. The bread was new and crusty, ... | Hard Times |
"I'm sooary I ha spok'n on 't," | Stephen Blackpool | "Dead, Stephen," Rachael softly hinted.<|quote|>"I'm sooary I ha spok'n on 't,"</|quote|>said Stephen, "I ought t' | said. "Not now, not now." "Dead, Stephen," Rachael softly hinted.<|quote|>"I'm sooary I ha spok'n on 't,"</|quote|>said Stephen, "I ought t' hadn in my mind as | Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was born. "'Twere a bad job, too, to lose so good a one," said Stephen. "Onny children?" Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against her saucer as she held it, denoted some nervousness on her part. "No," she said. "Not now, not now." "Dead, Stephen," Rachael softly hinted.<|quote|>"I'm sooary... | the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I think?" said Stephen. "Oh, many long years!" Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of the best on record) was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was ... | and some butter from the nearest shop. The bread was new and crusty, the butter fresh, and the sugar lump, of course in fulfilment of the standard testimony of the Coketown magnates, that these people lived like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so large a party necessitated the borrowing of a cup), and the visitor e... | a slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said Stephen, "and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then; and arterwards I'll see ... | a doubtful glance at Rachael. "Suppose she be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to master," said he, glancing again at Rachael, "not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and me." "Have you left his work, Stephen?" asked Rachael, anxiously and quic... | almost a relief to be forced away from the endurance of the last four days, even to unknown difficulties and distresses. So he said, with truth, "I'm more leetsome, Rachael, under 't, than I could'n ha believed." It was not her part to make his burden heavier. She answered with her comforting smile, and the three walke... | Hard Times |
said Stephen, | No speaker | I ha spok'n on 't,"<|quote|>said Stephen,</|quote|>"I ought t' hadn in | Rachael softly hinted. "I'm sooary I ha spok'n on 't,"<|quote|>said Stephen,</|quote|>"I ought t' hadn in my mind as I might | a bad job, too, to lose so good a one," said Stephen. "Onny children?" Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against her saucer as she held it, denoted some nervousness on her part. "No," she said. "Not now, not now." "Dead, Stephen," Rachael softly hinted. "I'm sooary I ha spok'n on 't,"<|quote|>said Stephen,</|quote|>"I ought ... | ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I think?" said Stephen. "Oh, many long years!" Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of the best on record) was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was born. "'Twere a bad job, too, to l... | The bread was new and crusty, the butter fresh, and the sugar lump, of course in fulfilment of the standard testimony of the Coketown magnates, that these people lived like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so large a party necessitated the borrowing of a cup), and the visitor enjoyed it mightily. It was the first gl... | she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said Stephen, "and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then; and arterwards I'll see thee safe t' thy Travellers' lod... | be? She must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to master," said he, glancing again at Rachael, "not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and me." "Have you left his work, Stephen?" asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly. "Why, Rachael," he replied, "whether I... | slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said Stephen, "and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then; and arterwards I'll see th... | Hard Times |
"I ought t' hadn in my mind as I might touch a sore place. I I blame myseln." | Stephen Blackpool | spok'n on 't," said Stephen,<|quote|>"I ought t' hadn in my mind as I might touch a sore place. I I blame myseln."</|quote|>While he excused himself, the | hinted. "I'm sooary I ha spok'n on 't," said Stephen,<|quote|>"I ought t' hadn in my mind as I might touch a sore place. I I blame myseln."</|quote|>While he excused himself, the old lady's cup rattled more | job, too, to lose so good a one," said Stephen. "Onny children?" Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against her saucer as she held it, denoted some nervousness on her part. "No," she said. "Not now, not now." "Dead, Stephen," Rachael softly hinted. "I'm sooary I ha spok'n on 't," said Stephen,<|quote|>"I ought t' hadn in my m... | thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I think?" said Stephen. "Oh, many long years!" Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of the best on record) was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was born. "'Twere a bad job, too, to lose so go... | was new and crusty, the butter fresh, and the sugar lump, of course in fulfilment of the standard testimony of the Coketown magnates, that these people lived like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so large a party necessitated the borrowing of a cup), and the visitor enjoyed it mightily. It was the first glimpse of s... | very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said Stephen, "and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then; and arterwards I'll see thee safe t' thy Travellers' lodgin. 'T ... | must be. She's your master's wife," returned the old woman. Stephen nodded assent. "Though as to master," said he, glancing again at Rachael, "not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and me." "Have you left his work, Stephen?" asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly. "Why, Rachael," he replied, "whether I ha lef'... | evidence of her last return now, were the scantier moveables in his room, and the grayer hair upon his head. He lighted a candle, set out his little tea-board, got hot water from below, and brought in small portions of tea and sugar, a loaf, and some butter from the nearest shop. The bread was new and crusty, the butte... | Hard Times |
While he excused himself, the old lady's cup rattled more and more. | No speaker | place. I I blame myseln."<|quote|>While he excused himself, the old lady's cup rattled more and more.</|quote|>"I had a son," she | I might touch a sore place. I I blame myseln."<|quote|>While he excused himself, the old lady's cup rattled more and more.</|quote|>"I had a son," she said, curiously distressed, and not | saucer as she held it, denoted some nervousness on her part. "No," she said. "Not now, not now." "Dead, Stephen," Rachael softly hinted. "I'm sooary I ha spok'n on 't," said Stephen, "I ought t' hadn in my mind as I might touch a sore place. I I blame myseln."<|quote|>While he excused himself, the old lady's cup rattle... | widder, I think?" said Stephen. "Oh, many long years!" Mrs. Pegler's husband (one of the best on record) was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was born. "'Twere a bad job, too, to lose so good a one," said Stephen. "Onny children?" Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against her saucer as she held it, de... | testimony of the Coketown magnates, that these people lived like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so large a party necessitated the borrowing of a cup), and the visitor enjoyed it mightily. It was the first glimpse of sociality the host had had for many days. He too, with the world a wide heath before him, enjoyed t... | to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said Stephen, "and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then; and arterwards I'll see thee safe t' thy Travellers' lodgin. 'T may be long, Rachael, ere ever I ha th' chance o' thy coompany agen." They complied, and t... | he, glancing again at Rachael, "not master onny more. That's aw enden 'twixt him and me." "Have you left his work, Stephen?" asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly. "Why, Rachael," he replied, "whether I ha lef'n his work, or whether his work ha lef'n me, cooms t' th' same. His work and me are parted. 'Tis as weel so bet... | She answered with her comforting smile, and the three walked on together. Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so light of her infirmities, though they had increased upon her since her former intervi... | Hard Times |
"I had a son," | The Old Woman | cup rattled more and more.<|quote|>"I had a son,"</|quote|>she said, curiously distressed, and | excused himself, the old lady's cup rattled more and more.<|quote|>"I had a son,"</|quote|>she said, curiously distressed, and not by any of the | she said. "Not now, not now." "Dead, Stephen," Rachael softly hinted. "I'm sooary I ha spok'n on 't," said Stephen, "I ought t' hadn in my mind as I might touch a sore place. I I blame myseln." While he excused himself, the old lady's cup rattled more and more.<|quote|>"I had a son,"</|quote|>she said, curiously distre... | (one of the best on record) was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was born. "'Twere a bad job, too, to lose so good a one," said Stephen. "Onny children?" Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against her saucer as she held it, denoted some nervousness on her part. "No," she said. "Not now, not now." "Dead... | Rachael made the tea (so large a party necessitated the borrowing of a cup), and the visitor enjoyed it mightily. It was the first glimpse of sociality the host had had for many days. He too, with the world a wide heath before him, enjoyed the meal again in corroboration of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want ... | than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said Stephen, "and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then; and arterwards I'll see thee safe t' thy Travellers' lodgin. 'T may be long, Rachael, ere ever I ha th' chance o' thy coompany agen." They complied, and the three went on to the house where he lodged. When they tur... | 'twixt him and me." "Have you left his work, Stephen?" asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly. "Why, Rachael," he replied, "whether I ha lef'n his work, or whether his work ha lef'n me, cooms t' th' same. His work and me are parted. 'Tis as weel so better, I were thinkin when yo coom up wi' me. It would ha brought'n trou... | Stephen, "and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then; and arterwards I'll see thee safe t' thy Travellers' lodgin. 'T may be long, Rachael, ere ever I ha th' chance o' thy coompany agen." They complied, and the three went on to the house where he lodged. When they turned into a narrow street, Stephen glanced at his ... | Hard Times |
she said, curiously distressed, and not by any of the usual appearances of sorrow; | No speaker | more. "I had a son,"<|quote|>she said, curiously distressed, and not by any of the usual appearances of sorrow;</|quote|>"and he did well, wonderfully | lady's cup rattled more and more. "I had a son,"<|quote|>she said, curiously distressed, and not by any of the usual appearances of sorrow;</|quote|>"and he did well, wonderfully well. But he is not | not now." "Dead, Stephen," Rachael softly hinted. "I'm sooary I ha spok'n on 't," said Stephen, "I ought t' hadn in my mind as I might touch a sore place. I I blame myseln." While he excused himself, the old lady's cup rattled more and more. "I had a son,"<|quote|>she said, curiously distressed, and not by any of the u... | on record) was already dead, by Mrs. Pegler's calculation, when Stephen was born. "'Twere a bad job, too, to lose so good a one," said Stephen. "Onny children?" Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against her saucer as she held it, denoted some nervousness on her part. "No," she said. "Not now, not now." "Dead, Stephen," Racha... | (so large a party necessitated the borrowing of a cup), and the visitor enjoyed it mightily. It was the first glimpse of sociality the host had had for many days. He too, with the world a wide heath before him, enjoyed the meal again in corroboration of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the... | my poor place, missus," said Stephen, "and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then; and arterwards I'll see thee safe t' thy Travellers' lodgin. 'T may be long, Rachael, ere ever I ha th' chance o' thy coompany agen." They complied, and the three went on to the house where he lodged. When they turned into a narrow st... | "Have you left his work, Stephen?" asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly. "Why, Rachael," he replied, "whether I ha lef'n his work, or whether his work ha lef'n me, cooms t' th' same. His work and me are parted. 'Tis as weel so better, I were thinkin when yo coom up wi' me. It would ha brought'n trouble upon trouble if ... | on together. Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so light of her infirmities, though they had increased upon her since her former interview with Stephen, that they both took an interest in her. She ... | Hard Times |
"and he did well, wonderfully well. But he is not to be spoken of if you please. He is" | The Old Woman | the usual appearances of sorrow;<|quote|>"and he did well, wonderfully well. But he is not to be spoken of if you please. He is"</|quote|>Putting down her cup, she | and not by any of the usual appearances of sorrow;<|quote|>"and he did well, wonderfully well. But he is not to be spoken of if you please. He is"</|quote|>Putting down her cup, she moved her hands as if | said Stephen, "I ought t' hadn in my mind as I might touch a sore place. I I blame myseln." While he excused himself, the old lady's cup rattled more and more. "I had a son," she said, curiously distressed, and not by any of the usual appearances of sorrow;<|quote|>"and he did well, wonderfully well. But he is not to b... | a bad job, too, to lose so good a one," said Stephen. "Onny children?" Mrs. Pegler's cup, rattling against her saucer as she held it, denoted some nervousness on her part. "No," she said. "Not now, not now." "Dead, Stephen," Rachael softly hinted. "I'm sooary I ha spok'n on 't," said Stephen, "I ought t' hadn in my min... | it mightily. It was the first glimpse of sociality the host had had for many days. He too, with the world a wide heath before him, enjoyed the meal again in corroboration of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' as... | coom then; and arterwards I'll see thee safe t' thy Travellers' lodgin. 'T may be long, Rachael, ere ever I ha th' chance o' thy coompany agen." They complied, and the three went on to the house where he lodged. When they turned into a narrow street, Stephen glanced at his window with a dread that always haunted his de... | replied, "whether I ha lef'n his work, or whether his work ha lef'n me, cooms t' th' same. His work and me are parted. 'Tis as weel so better, I were thinkin when yo coom up wi' me. It would ha brought'n trouble upon trouble if I had stayed theer. Haply 'tis a kindness to monny that I go; haply 'tis a kindness to mysel... | home; but it was open, as he had left it, and no one was there. The evil spirit of his life had flitted away again, months ago, and he had heard no more of her since. The only evidence of her last return now, were the scantier moveables in his room, and the grayer hair upon his head. He lighted a candle, set out his li... | Hard Times |
Putting down her cup, she moved her hands as if she would have added, by her action, | No speaker | if you please. He is"<|quote|>Putting down her cup, she moved her hands as if she would have added, by her action,</|quote|>"dead!" Then she said aloud, | not to be spoken of if you please. He is"<|quote|>Putting down her cup, she moved her hands as if she would have added, by her action,</|quote|>"dead!" Then she said aloud, "I have lost him." Stephen | myseln." While he excused himself, the old lady's cup rattled more and more. "I had a son," she said, curiously distressed, and not by any of the usual appearances of sorrow; "and he did well, wonderfully well. But he is not to be spoken of if you please. He is"<|quote|>Putting down her cup, she moved her hands as if s... | her saucer as she held it, denoted some nervousness on her part. "No," she said. "Not now, not now." "Dead, Stephen," Rachael softly hinted. "I'm sooary I ha spok'n on 't," said Stephen, "I ought t' hadn in my mind as I might touch a sore place. I I blame myseln." While he excused himself, the old lady's cup rattled mo... | the world a wide heath before him, enjoyed the meal again in corroboration of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir. "I ha never thowt yet, missus," said Stephen, "o' askin thy name." The old lady announced herself as "Mrs. Pegler." "A widder, I think?" said Stephe... | I ha th' chance o' thy coompany agen." They complied, and the three went on to the house where he lodged. When they turned into a narrow street, Stephen glanced at his window with a dread that always haunted his desolate home; but it was open, as he had left it, and no one was there. The evil spirit of his life had fli... | work and me are parted. 'Tis as weel so better, I were thinkin when yo coom up wi' me. It would ha brought'n trouble upon trouble if I had stayed theer. Haply 'tis a kindness to monny that I go; haply 'tis a kindness to myseln; anyways it mun be done. I mun turn my face fro Coketown fur th' time, and seek a fort'n, dea... | allow of their walking at a slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever. "Come to my poor place, missus," said Stephen, "and tak a coop o' tea. Rachael will coom then... | Hard Times |
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