Дэвид Копперфильд

Enthusiasm

           WhenIleft,atnineo’clock,shewaskneelingonthegroundattheDoctor’sfeet,puttingonhisshoesandgaitersforhim.Therewasasoftenedshadeuponherface,thrownfromsomegreenleavesoverhangingtheopenwindowofthelowroom;andIthoughtallthewaytoDoctors’Commons,ofthenightwhenIhadseenitlookingathimasheread.

           Iwasprettybusynow;upatfiveinthemorning,andhomeatnineortenatnight.ButIhadinfinitesatisfactioninbeingsocloselyengaged,andneverwalkedslowlyonanyaccount,andfeltenthusiasticallythatthemoreItiredmyself,themoreIwasdoingtodeserveDora.IhadnotrevealedmyselfinmyalteredcharactertoDorayet,becauseshewascomingtoseeMissMillsinafewdays,andIdeferredallIhadtotellheruntilthen;merelyinformingherinmyletters(allourcommunicationsweresecretlyforwardedthroughMissMills),thatIhadmuchtotellher.Inthemeantime,Iputmyselfonashortallowanceofbear’sgrease,whollyabandonedscentedsoapandlavenderwater,andsoldoffthreewaistcoatsataprodigioussacrifice,asbeingtooluxuriousformysterncareer.

           Notsatisfiedwithalltheseproceedings,butburningwithimpatiencetodosomethingmore,IwenttoseeTraddles,nowlodgingupbehindtheparapetofahouseinCastleStreet,Holborn.Mr.Dick,whohadbeenwithmetoHighgatetwicealready,andhadresumedhiscompanionshipwiththeDoctor,Itookwithme.

           ItookMr.

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