Дэвид Копперфильд

I Begin Life on My Own Account, and Don’t Like it

           Morethanonce,whenIwentthereearly,Ihadaudienceofhiminaturn-upbedstead,withacutinhisforeheadorablackeye,bearingwitnesstohisexcessesover-night(Iamafraidhewasquarrelsomeinhisdrink),andhe,withashakinghand,endeavouringtofindtheneedfulshillingsinoneorotherofthepocketsofhisclothes,whichlayuponthefloor,whilehiswife,withababyinherarmsandhershoesdownatheel,neverleftoffratinghim.Sometimeshehadlosthismoney,andthenhewouldaskmetocallagain;buthiswifehadalwaysgotsomehadtakenhis,Idaresay,whilehewasdrunkandsecretlycompletedthebargainonthestairs,aswewentdowntogether.Atthepawnbroker’sshop,too,Ibegantobeverywellknown.Theprincipalgentlemanwhoofficiatedbehindthecounter,tookagooddealofnoticeofme;andoftengotme,Irecollect,todeclineaLatinnounoradjective,ortoconjugateaLatinverb,inhisear,whilehetransactedmybusiness.AfteralltheseoccasionsMrs.Micawbermadealittletreat,whichwasgenerallyasupper;andtherewasapeculiarrelishinthesemealswhichIwellremember.

           AtlastMr.Micawber’sdifficultiescametoacrisis,andhewasarrestedearlyonemorning,andcarriedovertotheKing’sBenchPrisonintheBorough.Hetoldme,ashewentoutofthehouse,thattheGodofdayhadnowgonedownuponhimandIreallythoughthisheartwasbrokenandminetoo.ButIheard,afterwards,thathewasseentoplayalivelygameatskittles,beforenoon.

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