Дэвид Копперфильд

Blissful

           Atfirstwestrayedtoandfroamongthetrees:IwithDora’sshyarmdrawnthroughmine:andHeavenknows,follyasitallwas,itwouldhavebeenahappyfatetohavebeenstruckimmortalwiththosefoolishfeelings,andhavestayedamongthetreesforever!

           But,muchtoosoon,weheardtheotherslaughingandtalking,andcalling‘where’sDora?’Sowewentback,andtheywantedDoratosing.RedWhiskerwouldhavegottheguitar-caseoutofthecarriage,butDoratoldhimnobodyknewwhereitwas,butI.SoRedWhiskerwasdoneforinamoment;andIgotit,andIunlockedit,andItooktheguitarout,andIsatbyher,andIheldherhandkerchiefandgloves,andIdrankineverynoteofherdearvoice,andshesangtoMEwholovedher,andalltheothersmightapplaudasmuchastheyliked,buttheyhadnothingtodowithit!

           Iwasintoxicatedwithjoy.Iwasafraiditwastoohappytobereal,andthatIshouldwakeinBuckinghamStreetpresently,andhearMrs.Cruppclinkingtheteacupsingettingbreakfastready.ButDorasang,andotherssang,andMissMillssangabouttheslumberingechoesinthecavernsofMemory;asifshewereahundredyearsoldandtheeveningcameon;andwehadtea,withthekettleboilinggipsy-fashion;andIwasstillashappyasever.

           Iwashappierthaneverwhenthepartybrokeup,andtheotherpeople,defeatedRedWhiskerandall,wenttheirseveralways,andwewentoursthroughthestilleveningandthedyinglight,withsweetscentsrisinguparoundus.Mr.

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Roboto Lora
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