Дэвид Копперфильд

Somebody Turns up

           NeitherdidIliketosay,thatIhopedhehadnotbeentoocommunicativetoUriah;ortoinquireiftheyhadtalkedmuchaboutme.IwasafraidofhurtingMr.Micawber’sfeelings,or,atallevents,Mrs.Micawber’s,shebeingverysensitive;butIwasuncomfortableaboutit,too,andoftenthoughtaboutitafterwards.

           Wehadabeautifullittledinner.Quiteanelegantdishoffish;thekidney-endofaloinofveal,roasted;friedsausage-meat;apartridge,andapudding.Therewaswine,andtherewasstrongale;andafterdinnerMrs.Micawbermadeusabowlofhotpunchwithherownhands.

           Mr.Micawberwasuncommonlyconvivial.Ineversawhimsuchgoodcompany.Hemadehisfaceshinewiththepunch,sothatitlookedasifithadbeenvarnishedallover.Hegotcheerfullysentimentalaboutthetown,andproposedsuccesstoit;observingthatMrs.MicawberandhimselfhadbeenmadeextremelysnugandcomfortablethereandthathenevershouldforgettheagreeablehourstheyhadpassedinCanterbury.Heproposedmeafterwards;andhe,andMrs.Micawber,andI,tookareviewofourpastacquaintance,inthecourseofwhichwesoldthepropertyalloveragain.ThenIproposedMrs.Micawber:or,atleast,said,modestly,‘Ifyou’llallowme,Mrs.Micawber,Ishallnowhavethepleasureofdrinkingyourhealth,ma’am.’OnwhichMr.MicawberdeliveredaneulogiumonMrs.

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Roboto Lora
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