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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 283/820
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‘
Nothing
’
s
truer
than
them
,
’
repeated
Mr
.
Barkis
;
‘
a
man
as
poor
as
I
am
,
finds
that
out
in
his
mind
when
he
’
s
laid
up
.
I
’
m
a
very
poor
man
,
sir
!
’
‘
I
am
sorry
to
hear
it
,
Mr
.
Barkis
.
’
‘
A
very
poor
man
,
indeed
I
am
,
’
said
Mr
.
Barkis
.
Here
his
right
hand
came
slowly
and
feebly
from
under
the
bedclothes
,
and
with
a
purposeless
uncertain
grasp
took
hold
of
a
stick
which
was
loosely
tied
to
the
side
of
the
bed
.
After
some
poking
about
with
this
instrument
,
in
the
course
of
which
his
face
assumed
a
variety
of
distracted
expressions
,
Mr
.
Barkis
poked
it
against
a
box
,
an
end
of
which
had
been
visible
to
me
all
the
time
.
Then
his
face
became
composed
.
‘
Old
clothes
,
’
said
Mr
.
Barkis
.
‘
Oh
!
’
said
I
.
‘
I
wish
it
was
Money
,
sir
,
’
said
Mr
.
Barkis
.
‘
I
wish
it
was
,
indeed
,
’
said
I
.
‘
But
it
AIN
’
T
,
’
said
Mr
.
Barkis
,
opening
both
his
eyes
as
wide
as
he
possibly
could
.
I
expressed
myself
quite
sure
of
that
,
and
Mr
.
Barkis
,
turning
his
eyes
more
gently
to
his
wife
,
said
:
