Дэвид Копперфильд

I Become Neglected, and Am Provided for

           Shehadbeenwalkinginthechurchyard,too,veryearly;andshegotintothecart,andsatinitwithherhandkerchiefathereyes.

           Solongassheremainedinthiscondition,Mr.Barkisgavenosignoflifewhatever.Hesatinhisusualplaceandattitudelikeagreatstuffedfigure.Butwhenshebegantolookabouther,andtospeaktome,henoddedhisheadandgrinnedseveraltimes.Ihavenottheleastnotionatwhom,orwhathemeantbyit.

           ‘It’sabeautifulday,Mr.Barkis!’Isaid,asanactofpoliteness.

           ‘Itain’tbad,’saidMr.Barkis,whogenerallyqualifiedhisspeech,andrarelycommittedhimself.

           ‘Peggottyisquitecomfortablenow,Mr.Barkis,’Iremarked,forhissatisfaction.

           ‘Isshe,though?’saidMr.Barkis.

           Afterreflectingaboutit,withasagaciousair,Mr.Barkiseyedher,andsaid:

           ‘AREyouprettycomfortable?’

           Peggottylaughed,andansweredintheaffirmative.

           ‘Butreallyandtruly,youknow.Areyou?’growledMr.Barkis,slidingnearertoherontheseat,andnudgingherwithhiselbow.‘Areyou?Reallyandtrulyprettycomfortable?Areyou?Eh?’

           AteachoftheseinquiriesMr.Barkisshufflednearertoher,andgaveheranothernudge;sothatatlastwewereallcrowdedtogetherintheleft-handcornerofthecart,andIwassosqueezedthatIcouldhardlybearit.

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