Дэвид Копперфильд

Our Housekeeping

           WhenmyeveningswereunoccupiedbythepursuitforwhichIhadqualifiedmyselfwithsomuchpains,andIwasengagedinwritingathome,shewouldsitquietlynearme,howeverlatethehour,andbesomute,thatIwouldoftenthinkshehaddroppedasleep.Butgenerally,whenIraisedmyhead,IsawherblueeyeslookingatmewiththequietattentionofwhichIhavealreadyspoken.

           ‘Oh,whatawearyboy!’saidDoraonenight,whenImethereyesasIwasshuttingupmydesk.

           ‘Whatawearygirl!’saidI.‘That’smoretothepurpose.Youmustgotobedanothertime,mylove.It’sfartoolateforyou.’

           ‘No,don’tsendmetobed!’pleadedDora,comingtomyside.‘Pray,don’tdothat!’

           ‘Dora!’Tomyamazementshewassobbingonmyneck.‘Notwell,mydear!nothappy!’

           ‘Yes!quitewell,andveryhappy!’saidDora.‘Butsayyou’llletmestop,andseeyouwrite.’

           ‘Why,whatasightforsuchbrighteyesatmidnight!’Ireplied.

           ‘Aretheybright,though?’returnedDora,laughing.‘I’msogladthey’rebright.’‘LittleVanity!’saidI.

           Butitwasnotvanity;itwasonlyharmlessdelightinmyadmiration.Iknewthatverywell,beforeshetoldmeso.

           ‘Ifyouthinkthempretty,sayImayalwaysstop,andseeyouwrite!’saidDora.‘Doyouthinkthempretty?’

           ‘Verypretty.

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Roboto Lora
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