Дэвид Копперфильд

Good and Bad Angels

           Wewentthenearestway,withoutconversingmuchupontheroad;andhewassohumbleinrespectofthosescarecrowgloves,thathewasstillputtingthemon,andseemedtohavemadenoadvanceinthatlabour,whenwegottomyplace.

           Iledhimupthedarkstairs,topreventhisknockinghisheadagainstanything,andreallyhisdampcoldhandfeltsolikeafroginmine,thatIwastemptedtodropitandrunaway.Agnesandhospitalityprevailed,however,andIconductedhimtomyfireside.WhenIlightedmycandles,hefellintomeektransportswiththeroomthatwasrevealedtohim;andwhenIheatedthecoffeeinanunassumingblock-tinvesselinwhichMrs.Cruppdelightedtoprepareit(chiefly,Ibelieve,becauseitwasnotintendedforthepurpose,beingashaving-pot,andbecausetherewasapatentinventionofgreatpricemoulderingawayinthepantry),heprofessedsomuchemotion,thatIcouldjoyfullyhavescaldedhim.

           ‘Oh,really,MasterCopperfield,ImeanMisterCopperfield,’saidUriah,‘toseeyouwaitinguponmeiswhatInevercouldhaveexpected!But,onewayandanother,somanythingshappentomewhichInevercouldhaveexpected,Iamsure,inmyumblestation,thatitseemstorainblessingsonmyed.

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