Дэвид Копперфильд

Dora’s Aunts

           ‘SisterLavinia,’saidMissClarissa,‘takemysmelling-bottle.’

           MissLaviniarevivedherselfwithafewwhiffsofaromaticvinegar-TraddlesandIlookingonwithgreatsolicitudethewhile;andthenwentontosay,ratherfaintly:

           ‘Mysisterandmyselfhavebeeningreatdoubt,Mr.Traddles,whatcourseweoughttotakeinreferencetothelikings,orimaginarylikings,ofsuchveryyoungpeopleasyourfriendMr.Copperfieldandourniece.’

           ‘OurbrotherFrancis’schild,’remarkedMissClarissa.‘IfourbrotherFrancis’swifehadfounditconvenientinherlifetime(thoughshehadanunquestionablerighttoactasshethoughtbest)toinvitethefamilytoherdinner-table,wemighthaveknownourbrotherFrancis’schildbetteratthepresentmoment.SisterLavinia,proceed.’

           MissLaviniaturnedmyletter,soastobringthesuperscriptiontowardsherself,andreferredthroughhereye-glasstosomeorderly-lookingnotesshehadmadeonthatpartofit.

           ‘Itseemstous,’saidshe,‘prudent,Mr.Traddles,tobringthesefeelingstothetestofourownobservation.Atpresentweknownothingofthem,andarenotinasituationtojudgehowmuchrealitytheremaybeinthem.ThereforeweareinclinedsofartoaccedetoMr.Copperfield’sproposal,astoadmithisvisitshere.

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