Дэвид Копперфильд

Depression

           WhenAgneslaidherbonnetonthetable,andsatdownbesideher,Icouldnotbutthink,lookingonhermildeyesandherradiantforehead,hownaturalitseemedtohaveherthere;howtrustfully,althoughshewassoyoungandinexperienced,myauntconfidedinher;howstrongshewas,indeed,insimpleloveandtruth.

           Webegantotalkaboutmyaunt’slosses,andItoldthemwhatIhadtriedtodothatmorning.

           ‘Whichwasinjudicious,Trot,’saidmyaunt,‘butwellmeant.YouareagenerousboyIsupposeImustsay,youngman,nowandIamproudofyou,mydear.Sofar,sogood.Now,TrotandAgnes,letuslookthecaseofBetseyTrotwoodintheface,andseehowitstands.’

           IobservedAgnesturnpale,asshelookedveryattentivelyatmyaunt.Myaunt,pattinghercat,lookedveryattentivelyatAgnes.

           ‘BetseyTrotwood,’saidmyaunt,whohadalwayskepthermoneymatterstoherself.‘-Idon’tmeanyoursister,Trot,mydear,butmyselfhadacertainproperty.Itdon’tmatterhowmuch;enoughtoliveon.More;forshehadsavedalittle,andaddedtoit.Betseyfundedherpropertyforsometime,andthen,bytheadviceofhermanofbusiness,laiditoutonlandedsecurity.Thatdidverywell,andreturnedverygoodinterest,tillBetseywaspaidoff.IamtalkingofBetseyasifshewasaman-of-war.Well!Then,Betseyhadtolookabouther,foranewinvestment.

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