Дэвид Копперфильд

Somebody Turns up

           Torenderhisvisitsthemoreagreeable,myaunthadinstructedmetoopenacreditforhimatacakeshop,whichwashamperedwiththestipulationthatheshouldnotbeservedwithmorethanoneshilling’s-worthinthecourseofanyoneday.This,andthereferenceofallhislittlebillsatthecountyinnwhereheslept,tomyaunt,beforetheywerepaid,inducedmetosuspectthathewasonlyallowedtorattlehismoney,andnottospendit.Ifoundonfurtherinvestigationthatthiswasso,oratleasttherewasanagreementbetweenhimandmyauntthatheshouldaccounttoherforallhisdisbursements.Ashehadnoideaofdeceivingher,andalwaysdesiredtopleaseher,hewasthusmadecharyoflaunchingintoexpense.Onthispoint,aswellasonallotherpossiblepoints,Mr.Dickwasconvincedthatmyauntwasthewisestandmostwonderfulofwomen;asherepeatedlytoldmewithinfinitesecrecy,andalwaysinawhisper.

           ‘Trotwood,’saidMr.Dick,withanairofmystery,afterimpartingthisconfidencetome,oneWednesday;‘who’sthemanthathidesnearourhouseandfrightensher?’

           ‘Frightensmyaunt,sir?’

           Mr.Dicknodded.‘Ithoughtnothingwouldhavefrightenedher,’hesaid,‘forshe’sherehewhisperedsoftly,‘don’tmentionitthewisestandmostwonderfulofwomen.’Havingsaidwhich,hedrewback,toobservetheeffectwhichthisdescriptionofhermadeuponme.

           ‘Thefirsttimehecame,’saidMr.

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