Дэвид Копперфильд

Good and Bad Angels

           

           ‘Dearme!’hesaid,‘it’spastone.Themomentsslipawayso,intheconfidenceofoldtimes,MasterCopperfield,thatit’salmosthalfpastone!’

           IansweredthatIhadthoughtitwaslater.NotthatIhadreallythoughtso,butbecausemyconversationalpowerswereeffectuallyscattered.

           ‘Dearme!’hesaid,considering.‘TheousethatIamstoppingat-asortofaprivatehotelandboardingouse,MasterCopperfield,neartheNewRiveredwillhavegonetobedthesetwohours.’

           ‘Iamsorry,’Ireturned,‘thatthereisonlyonebedhere,andthatI

           ‘Oh,don’tthinkofmentioningbeds,MasterCopperfield!’herejoinedecstatically,drawinguponeleg.‘Butwouldyouhaveanyobjectionstomylayingdownbeforethefire?’

           ‘Ifitcomestothat,’Isaid,‘praytakemybed,andI’llliedownbeforethefire.’

           Hisrepudiationofthisofferwasalmostshrillenough,intheexcessofitssurpriseandhumility,tohavepenetratedtotheearsofMrs.Crupp,thensleeping,Isuppose,inadistantchamber,situatedatabouttheleveloflow-watermark,soothedinherslumbersbythetickingofanincorrigibleclock,towhichshealwaysreferredmewhenwehadanylittledifferenceonthescoreofpunctuality,andwhichwasneverlessthanthree-quartersofanhourtooslow,andhadalwaysbeenputrightinthemorningbythebestauthorities.

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