Дэвид Копперфильд

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           ‘Mydearfellow,’saidTraddles,rumplinghishairinhisexcitement,whichwasamostunnecessaryoperation,‘mydearestCopperfield,mylong-lostandmostwelcomefriend,howgladIamtoseeyou!Howbrownyouare!HowgladIam!Uponmylifeandhonour,Ineverwassorejoiced,mybelovedCopperfield,never!’

           Iwasequallyatalosstoexpressmyemotions.Iwasquiteunabletospeak,atfirst.

           ‘Mydearfellow!’saidTraddles.‘Andgrownsofamous!MygloriousCopperfield!Goodgraciousme,WHENdidyoucome,WHEREhaveyoucomefrom,WHAThaveyoubeendoing?’

           Neverpausingforananswertoanythinghesaid,Traddles,whohadclappedmeintoaneasy-chairbythefire,allthistimeimpetuouslystirredthefirewithonehand,andpulledatmyneck-kerchiefwiththeother,undersomewilddelusionthatitwasagreat-coat.Withoutputtingdownthepoker,henowhuggedmeagain;andIhuggedhim;and,bothlaughing,andbothwipingoureyes,webothsatdown,andshookhandsacrossthehearth.

           ‘Tothink,’saidTraddles,‘thatyoushouldhavebeensonearlycominghomeasyoumusthavebeen,mydearoldboy,andnotattheceremony!’

           ‘Whatceremony,mydearTraddles?’

           ‘Goodgraciousme!’criedTraddles,openinghiseyesinhisoldway.‘Didn’tyougetmylastletter?’

           ‘Certainlynot,ifitreferredtoanyceremony.

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