Дэвид Копперфильд

Wickfield and Heep

           Wickfield’shouse,Ifound,inthelittlelowerroomonthegroundfloor,whereUriahHeephadbeenofoldaccustomedtosit,Mr.Micawberplyinghispenwithgreatassiduity.Hewasdressedinalegal-lookingsuitofblack,andloomed,burlyandlarge,inthatsmalloffice.

           Mr.Micawberwasextremelygladtoseeme,butalittleconfusedtoo.HewouldhaveconductedmeimmediatelyintothepresenceofUriah,butIdeclined.

           ‘Iknowthehouseofold,yourecollect,’saidI,‘andwillfindmywayupstairs.Howdoyoulikethelaw,Mr.Micawber?’

           ‘MydearCopperfield,’hereplied.‘Toamanpossessedofthehigherimaginativepowers,theobjectiontolegalstudiesistheamountofdetailwhichtheyinvolve.Eveninourprofessionalcorrespondence,’saidMr.Micawber,glancingatsomelettershewaswriting,‘themindisnotatlibertytosoartoanyexaltedformofexpression.Still,itisagreatpursuit.Agreatpursuit!’

           HethentoldmethathehadbecomethetenantofUriahHeep’soldhouse;andthatMrs.Micawberwouldbedelightedtoreceiveme,oncemore,underherownroof.

           ‘Itishumble,’saidMr.Micawber,‘-toquoteafavouriteexpressionofmyfriendHeep;butitmayprovethestepping-stonetomoreambitiousdomiciliaryaccommodation.

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