Дэвид Копперфильд

Mischief

           Idon’tmindacknowledgingtoyouthatI’vegotratheragrudgingdisposition,andwanttokeepoffallintruders.Iain’ta-going,ifIknowit,toruntheriskofbeingplottedagainst.’

           ‘Youarealwaysplotting,anddeludeyourselfintothebeliefthateverybodyelseisdoingthelike,Ithink,’saidI.

           ‘Perhapsso,MasterCopperfield,’hereplied.‘ButI’vegotamotive,asmyfellow-partnerusedtosay;andIgoatittoothandnail.Imustn’tbeputupon,asanumbleperson,toomuch.Ican’tallowpeopleinmyway.Reallytheymustcomeoutofthecart,MasterCopperfield!’

           ‘Idon’tunderstandyou,’saidI.

           ‘Don’tyou,though?’hereturned,withoneofhisjerks.‘I’mastonishedatthat,MasterCopperfield,youbeingusuallysoquick!I’lltrytobeplainer,anothertime.IsthatMr.Maldona-norseback,ringingatthegate,sir?’

           ‘Itlookslikehim,’Ireplied,ascarelesslyasIcould.

           Uriahstoppedshort,puthishandsbetweenhisgreatknobsofknees,anddoubledhimselfupwithlaughter.Withperfectlysilentlaughter.Notasoundescapedfromhim.Iwassorepelledbyhisodiousbehaviour,particularlybythisconcludinginstance,thatIturnedawaywithoutanyceremony;andlefthimdoubledupinthemiddleofthegarden,likeascarecrowinwantofsupport.

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