Дэвид Копперфильд

Some Old Scenes, and Some New People

           Steerforth,afterverymuchimprovingMrs.Gummidge’sspiritsbyacheerfulsalutationandajocoseembrace,tookmyarm,andhurriedmeaway.

           Hehadimprovedhisownspirits,nolessthanMrs.Gummidge’s,fortheywereagainattheirusualflow,andhewasfullofvivaciousconversationaswewentalong.

           ‘Andso,’hesaid,gaily,‘weabandonthisbuccaneerlifetomorrow,dowe?’

           ‘Soweagreed,’Ireturned.‘Andourplacesbythecoacharetaken,youknow.’

           ‘Ay!there’snohelpforit,Isuppose,’saidSteerforth.‘Ihavealmostforgottenthatthereisanythingtodointheworldbuttogoouttossingontheseahere.Iwishtherewasnot.’

           ‘Aslongasthenoveltyshouldlast,’saidI,laughing.

           ‘Likeenough,’hereturned;‘thoughthere’sasarcasticmeaninginthatobservationforanamiablepieceofinnocencelikemyyoungfriend.Well!IdaresayIamacapriciousfellow,David.IknowIam;butwhiletheironishot,Icanstrikeitvigorouslytoo.Icouldpassareasonablygoodexaminationalready,asapilotinthesewaters,Ithink.’

           ‘Mr.Peggottysaysyouareawonder,’Ireturned.

           ‘Anauticalphenomenon,eh?’laughedSteerforth.

           ‘Indeedhedoes,andyouknowhowtruly;Iknowhowardentyouareinanypursuityoufollow,andhoweasilyyoucanmasterit.

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