Дэвид Копперфильд

Wickfield and Heep

           Iproposedtohertowalkoutwithme;butMrs.Heeprepeatedlycomplainingthatshewasworse,Agnescharitablyremainedwithin,tobearhercompany.TowardsthetwilightIwentoutbymyself,musingonwhatIoughttodo,andwhetherIwasjustifiedinwithholdingfromAgnes,anylonger,whatUriahHeephadtoldmeinLondon;forthatbegantotroublemeagain,verymuch.

           Ihadnotwalkedoutfarenoughtobequiteclearofthetown,upontheRamsgateroad,wheretherewasagoodpath,whenIwashailed,throughthedust,bysomebodybehindme.Theshamblingfigure,andthescantygreat-coat,werenottobemistaken.Istopped,andUriahHeepcameup.

           ‘Well?’saidI.

           ‘Howfastyouwalk!’saidhe.‘Mylegsareprettylong,butyou’vegiven‘emquiteajob.’

           ‘Whereareyougoing?’saidI.

           ‘Iamgoingwithyou,MasterCopperfield,ifyou’llallowmethepleasureofawalkwithanoldacquaintance.’Sayingthis,withajerkofhisbody,whichmighthavebeeneitherpropitiatoryorderisive,hefellintostepbesideme.

           ‘Uriah!’saidI,ascivillyasIcould,afterasilence.

           ‘MasterCopperfield!’saidUriah.

           ‘Totellyouthetruth(atwhichyouwillnotbeoffended),IcameOuttowalkalone,becauseIhavehadsomuchcompany.’

           Helookedatmesideways,andsaidwithhishardestgrin,‘Youmeanmother.’

           ‘Whyyes,Ido,’saidI.

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