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Pagina 452 de 896

Autor: Charles Dickens

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He obeyed, in the old mechanically submissive manner, without
pausing in his work.
"You know me, my dear friend? Think again. This is not your
proper occupation. Think, dear friend!"
Nothing would induce him to speak more. He looked up, for an
instant at a time, when he was requested to do so; but, no
persuasion would extract a word from him. He worked, and worked,
and worked, in silence, and words fell on him as they would have
fallen on an echoless wall, or on the air. The only ray of hope
that Mr. Lorry could discover, was, that he sometimes furtively
looked up without being asked. In that, there seemed a faint
expression of curiosity or perplexity--as though he were trying
to reconcile some doubts in his mind.

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