Дэвид Копперфильд

I Am a New Boy in More Senses than One

           Wickfield.‘Neverbeoneofthose,Trotwood,inanything.Heistheleastsuspiciousofmankind;andwhetherthat’samerit,orwhetherit’sablemish,itdeservesconsiderationinalldealingswiththeDoctor,greatorsmall.’

           Hespoke,Ithought,asifhewereweary,ordissatisfiedwithsomething;butIdidnotpursuethequestioninmymind,fordinnerwasjustthenannounced,andwewentdownandtookthesameseatsasbefore.

           Wehadscarcelydoneso,whenUriahHeepputinhisredheadandhislankhandatthedoor,andsaid:

           ‘Here’sMr.Maldonbegsthefavourofaword,sir.’

           ‘IambutthismomentquitofMr.Maldon,’saidhismaster.

           ‘Yes,sir,’returnedUriah;‘butMr.Maldonhascomeback,andhebegsthefavourofaword.’

           Asheheldthedooropenwithhishand,Uriahlookedatme,andlookedatAgnes,andlookedatthedishes,andlookedattheplates,andlookedateveryobjectintheroom,Ithought,yetseemedtolookatnothing;hemadesuchanappearanceallthewhileofkeepinghisredeyesdutifullyonhismaster.‘Ibegyourpardon.It’sonlytosay,onreflection,’observedavoicebehindUriah,asUriah’sheadwaspushedaway,andthespeaker’ssubstituted‘prayexcusemeforthisintrusionthatasitseemsIhavenochoiceinthematter,thesoonerIgoabroadthebetter.

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