Дэвид Копперфильд

A Loss

           ”’

           Hereallyhadnobreathtospare,anditwasveryalarmingtoseehimlaugh.Whenhewasagaininaconditiontobetalkedto,Ithankedhimfortheprofferedrefreshment,whichIdeclined,asIhadjusthaddinner;and,observingthatIwouldwait,sincehewassogoodastoinviteme,untilhisdaughterandhisson-in-lawcameback,IinquiredhowlittleEmilywas?

           ‘Well,sir,’saidMr.Omer,removinghispipe,thathemightrubhischin:‘Itellyoutruly,Ishallbegladwhenhermarriagehastakenplace.’

           ‘Whyso?’Iinquired.

           ‘Well,she’sunsettledatpresent,’saidMr.Omer.‘Itain’tthatshe’snotasprettyasever,forshe’sprettierIdoassureyou,sheisprettier.Itain’tthatshedon’tworkaswellasever,forshedoes.SheWASworthanysix,andsheISworthanysix.Butsomehowshewantsheart.Ifyouunderstand,’saidMr.Omer,afterrubbinghischinagain,andsmokingalittle,‘whatImeaninageneralwaybytheexpression,“Alongpull,andastrongpull,andapullaltogether,myhearties,hurrah!”Ishouldsaytoyou,thatthatwas—inageneralway—whatImissinEm’ly.’

           Mr.Omer’sfaceandmannerwentforsomuch,thatIcouldconscientiouslynodmyhead,asdivininghismeaning.Myquicknessofapprehensionseemedtopleasehim,andhewenton:‘NowIconsiderthisisprincipallyonaccountofherbeinginanunsettledstate,yousee.

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Roboto Lora
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