Дэвид Копперфильд

I Fall into Captivity

           Weloiteredalonginfrontofthem,andDoraoftenstoppedtoadmirethisoneorthatone,andIstoppedtoadmirethesameone,andDora,laughing,heldthedogupchildishly,tosmelltheflowers;andifwewerenotallthreeinFairyland,certainlyIwas.Thescentofageraniumleaf,atthisday,strikesmewithahalfcomicalhalfseriouswonderastowhatchangehascomeovermeinamoment;andthenIseeastrawhatandblueribbons,andaquantityofcurls,andalittleblackdogbeingheldup,intwoslenderarms,againstabankofblossomsandbrightleaves.

           MissMurdstonehadbeenlookingforus.Shefoundushere;andpresentedheruncongenialcheek,thelittlewrinklesinitfilledwithhairpowder,toDoratobekissed.ThenshetookDora’sarminhers,andmarchedusintobreakfastasifitwereasoldier’sfuneral.

           HowmanycupsofteaIdrank,becauseDoramadeit,Idon’tknow.But,IperfectlyrememberthatIsatswillingteauntilmywholenervoussystem,ifIhadhadanyinthosedays,musthavegonebytheboard.Byandbywewenttochurch.MissMurdstonewasbetweenDoraandmeinthepew;butIheardhersing,andthecongregationvanished.AsermonwasdeliveredaboutDora,ofcourseandIamafraidthatisallIknowoftheservice.

           Wehadaquietday.Nocompany,awalk,afamilydinneroffour,andaneveningoflookingoverbooksandpictures;MissMurdstonewithahomilybeforeher,andhereyeuponus,keepingguardvigilantly.Ah!littledidMr.

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