Дэвид Копперфильд

I Am Involved in Mystery

           Hehadrelinquishedhislegalsuitofblackforthepurposesofthisexcursion,andworetheoldsurtoutandtights,butnotquitewiththeoldair.Hegraduallypickedupmoreandmoreofitasweconversedwithhim;but,hisveryeye-glassseemedtohanglesseasily,andhisshirt-collar,thoughstilloftheoldformidabledimensions,ratherdrooped.

           ‘Gentlemen!’saidMr.Micawber,afterthefirstsalutations,‘youarefriendsinneed,andfriendsindeed.AllowmetooffermyinquirieswithreferencetothephysicalwelfareofMrs.Copperfieldinesse,andMrs.Traddlesinposse,presuming,thatistosay,thatmyfriendMr.Traddlesisnotyetunitedtotheobjectofhisaffections,forwealandforwoe.’

           Weacknowledgedhispoliteness,andmadesuitablereplies.Hethendirectedourattentiontothewall,andwasbeginning,‘Iassureyou,gentlemen,’whenIventuredtoobjecttothatceremoniousformofaddress,andtobegthathewouldspeaktousintheoldway.

           ‘MydearCopperfield,’hereturned,pressingmyhand,‘yourcordialityoverpowersme.ThisreceptionofashatteredfragmentoftheTempleoncecalledMan—ifImaybepermittedsotoexpressmyself—bespeaksaheartthatisanhonourtoourcommonnature.IwasabouttoobservethatIagainbeholdtheserenespotwheresomeofthehappiesthoursofmyexistencefleetedby.’

           ‘Madeso,Iamsure,byMrs.Micawber,’saidI.‘Ihopesheiswell?’

           ‘Thankyou,’returnedMr.

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