Дэвид Копперфильд

I Look About Me, and Make a Discovery

           Buthelookedsuchaveryobduratebutcherashestoodscrapingthegreatblockintheshop,andmoreover,hisappearancewassolittleimprovedbythelossofafronttoothwhichIhadknockedout,thatIthoughtitbesttomakenoadvances.

           Themainobjectonmymind,Iremember,whenwegotfairlyontheroad,wastoappearasoldaspossibletothecoachman,andtospeakextremelygruff.ThelatterpointIachievedatgreatpersonalinconvenience;butIstucktoit,becauseIfeltitwasagrown-upsortofthing.

           ‘Youaregoingthrough,sir?’saidthecoachman.

           ‘Yes,William,’Isaid,condescendingly(Iknewhim);‘IamgoingtoLondon.IshallgodownintoSuffolkafterwards.’

           ‘Shooting,sir?’saidthecoachman.

           HeknewaswellasIdidthatitwasjustaslikely,atthattimeofyear,Iwasgoingdowntherewhaling;butIfeltcomplimented,too.

           ‘Idon’tknow,’Isaid,pretendingtobeundecided,‘whetherIshalltakeashotornot.’‘Birdsisgotweryshy,I’mtold,’saidWilliam.

           ‘SoIunderstand,’saidI.

           ‘IsSuffolkyourcounty,sir?’askedWilliam.

           ‘Yes,’Isaid,withsomeimportance.‘Suffolk’smycounty.’

           ‘I’mtoldthedumplingsisuncommonfinedownthere,’saidWilliam.

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