Дэвид Копперфильд

I Am Sent Away from Home

           ‘Weshallgobythestage-coach.It’saboutsixmiles.’

           Iwassofaintandtired,thattheideaofholdingoutforsixmilesmore,wastoomuchforme.ItookhearttotellhimthatIhadhadnothingallnight,andthatifhewouldallowmetobuysomethingtoeat,Ishouldbeverymuchobligedtohim.HeappearedsurprisedatthisIseehimstopandlookatmenowandafterconsideringforafewmoments,saidhewantedtocallonanoldpersonwholivednotfaroff,andthatthebestwaywouldbeformetobuysomebread,orwhateverIlikedbestthatwaswholesome,andmakemybreakfastatherhouse,wherewecouldgetsomemilk.

           Accordinglywelookedinatabaker’swindow,andafterIhadmadeaseriesofproposalstobuyeverythingthatwasbiliousintheshop,andhehadrejectedthemonebyone,wedecidedinfavourofanicelittleloafofbrownbread,whichcostmethreepence.Then,atagrocer’sshop,weboughtaneggandasliceofstreakybacon;whichstillleftwhatIthoughtagooddealofchange,outofthesecondofthebrightshillings,andmademeconsiderLondonaverycheapplace.

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