Дэвид Копперфильд

A Loss

           Wehavetalkeditoveragooddeal,heruncleandmyself,andhersweetheartandmyself,afterbusiness;andIconsideritisprincipallyonaccountofherbeingunsettled.YoumustalwaysrecollectofEm’ly,’saidMr.Omer,shakinghisheadgently,‘thatshe’samostextraordinaryaffectionatelittlething.Theproverbsays,“Youcan’tmakeasilkpurseoutofasow’sear.”Well,Idon’tknowaboutthat.Iratherthinkyoumay,ifyoubeginearlyinlife.Shehasmadeahomeoutofthatoldboat,sir,thatstoneandmarblecouldn’tbeat.’

           ‘Iamsureshehas!’saidI.

           ‘Toseetheclingingofthatprettylittlethingtoheruncle,’saidMr.Omer;‘toseethewaysheholdsontohim,tighterandtighter,andcloserandcloser,everyday,istoseeasight.Now,youknow,there’sastrugglegoingonwhenthat’sthecase.Whyshoulditbemadealongeronethanisneedful?’

           Ilistenedattentivelytothegoodoldfellow,andacquiesced,withallmyheart,inwhathesaid.

           ‘Therefore,Imentionedtothem,’saidMr.Omer,inacomfortable,easy-goingtone,‘this.Isaid,“Now,don’tconsiderEm’lynaileddowninpointoftime,atall.Makeityourowntime.Herserviceshavebeenmorevaluablethanwassupposed;herlearninghasbeenquickerthanwassupposed;OmerandJoramcanruntheirpenthroughwhatremains;andshe’sfreewhenyouwish.

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