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Автор: Charles Dickens

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Apparently, Mr. Cruncher did, to judge from his looks. He said
not a word, however, and Miss Pross, exploring the depths of her
reticule through her tears with great difficulty paid for her
wine. As she did so, Solomon turned to the followers of the Good
Republican Brutus of Antiquity, and offered a few words of
explanation in the French language, which caused them all to
relapse into their former places and pursuits.
"Now," said Solomon, stopping at the dark street corner, "what do
you want?"
"How dreadfully unkind in a brother nothing has ever turned my
love away from!" cried Miss Pross, "to give me such a greeting,
and show me no affection."
"There. Confound it! There," said Solomon, making a dab at Miss
Pross's lips with his own. "Now are you content?"
Miss Pross only shook her head and wept in silence.

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