Дэвид Копперфильд

I Corroborate Mr. Dick, and Choose a Profession

           Whenthetablewascleared,Janetassistedhertoarrangeherhair,toputonhernightcap,whichwasofasmarterconstructionthanusual(‘incaseoffire’,myauntsaid),andtofoldhergownbackoverherknees,thesebeingherusualpreparationsforwarmingherselfbeforegoingtobed.Ithenmadeher,accordingtocertainestablishedregulationsfromwhichnodeviation,howeverslight,couldeverbepermitted,aglassofhotwineandwater,andasliceoftoastcutintolongthinstrips.Withtheseaccompanimentswewereleftalonetofinishtheevening,myauntsittingoppositetomedrinkingherwineandwater;soakingherstripsoftoastinit,onebyone,beforeeatingthem;andlookingbenignantlyonme,fromamongthebordersofhernightcap.

           ‘Well,Trot,’shebegan,‘whatdoyouthinkoftheproctorplan?Orhaveyounotbeguntothinkaboutityet?’

           ‘Ihavethoughtagooddealaboutit,mydearaunt,andIhavetalkedagooddealaboutitwithSteerforth.Ilikeitverymuchindeed.Ilikeitexceedingly.’

           ‘Come!’saidmyaunt.‘That’scheering!’

           ‘Ihaveonlyonedifficulty,aunt.’

           ‘Saywhatitis,Trot,’shereturned.

           ‘Why,Iwanttoask,aunt,asthisseems,fromwhatIunderstand,tobealimitedprofession,whethermyentranceintoitwouldnotbeveryexpensive?’

           ‘Itwillcost,’returnedmyaunt,‘toarticleyou,justathousandpounds.

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