Дэвид Копперфильд

I Observe

           

           ‘Butifyoumarryaperson,andthepersondies,whythenyoumaymarryanotherperson,mayn’tyou,Peggotty?’

           ‘YOUMAY,’saysPeggotty,‘ifyouchoose,mydear.That’samatterofopinion.’

           ‘Butwhatisyouropinion,Peggotty?’saidI.

           Iaskedher,andlookedcuriouslyather,becauseshelookedsocuriouslyatme.

           ‘Myopinionis,’saidPeggotty,takinghereyesfromme,afteralittleindecisionandgoingonwithherwork,‘thatIneverwasmarriedmyself,MasterDavy,andthatIdon’texpecttobe.That’sallIknowaboutthesubject.’

           ‘Youan’tcross,Isuppose,Peggotty,areyou?’saidI,aftersittingquietforaminute.

           Ireallythoughtshewas,shehadbeensoshortwithme;butIwasquitemistaken:forshelaidasideherwork(whichwasastockingofherown),andopeningherarmswide,tookmycurlyheadwithinthem,andgaveitagoodsqueeze.Iknowitwasagoodsqueeze,because,beingveryplump,whenevershemadeanylittleexertionaftershewasdressed,someofthebuttonsonthebackofhergownflewoff.AndIrecollecttwoburstingtotheoppositesideoftheparlour,whileshewashuggingme.

           ‘NowletmehearsomemoreabouttheCrorkindills,’saidPeggotty,whowasnotquiterightinthenameyet,‘forIan’theardhalfenough.

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