Дэвид Копперфильд

Mr. Peggotty’s Dream Comes True

           Isawtheflashingblackeyes,andthepassion-wastedfigure;andIsawthescar,withitswhitetrackcuttingthroughherlips,quiveringandthrobbingasshespoke.

           ‘Ihavecometosee,’shesaid,‘JamesSteerforth’sfancy;thegirlwhoranawaywithhim,andisthetown-talkofthecommonestpeopleofhernativeplace;thebold,flaunting,practisedcompanionofpersonslikeJamesSteerforth.Iwanttoknowwhatsuchathingislike.’

           Therewasarustle,asiftheunhappygirl,onwhomsheheapedthesetaunts,rantowardsthedoor,andthespeakerswiftlyinterposedherselfbeforeit.Itwassucceededbyamoment’spause.

           WhenMissDartlespokeagain,itwasthroughhersetteeth,andwithastampupontheground.

           ‘Staythere!’shesaid,‘orI’llproclaimyoutothehouse,andthewholestreet!Ifyoutrytoevademe,I’llstopyou,ifit’sbythehair,andraisetheverystonesagainstyou!’

           Afrightenedmurmurwastheonlyreplythatreachedmyears.Asilencesucceeded.Ididnotknowwhattodo.MuchasIdesiredtoputanendtotheinterview,IfeltthatIhadnorighttopresentmyself;thatitwasforMr.Peggottyalonetoseeherandrecoverher.Wouldhenevercome?Ithoughtimpatiently.

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