Дэвид Копперфильд

Mischief

           

           Itwasnotonthatevening;but,asIwellremember,onthenexteveningbutone,whichwasaSunday;thatItookAgnestoseeDora.Ihadarrangedthevisit,beforehand,withMissLavinia;andAgneswasexpectedtotea.

           Iwasinaflutterofprideandanxiety;prideinmydearlittlebetrothed,andanxietythatAgnesshouldlikeher.AllthewaytoPutney,Agnesbeinginsidethestage-coach,andIoutside,IpicturedDoratomyselfineveryoneoftheprettylooksIknewsowell;nowmakingupmymindthatIshouldlikehertolookexactlyasshelookedatsuchatime,andthendoubtingwhetherIshouldnotpreferherlookingasshelookedatsuchanothertime;andalmostworryingmyselfintoafeveraboutit.

           Iwastroubledbynodoubtofherbeingverypretty,inanycase;butitfelloutthatIhadneverseenherlooksowell.Shewasnotinthedrawing-roomwhenIpresentedAgnestoherlittleaunts,butwasshylykeepingoutoftheway.Iknewwheretolookforher,now;andsureenoughIfoundherstoppingherearsagain,behindthesamedullolddoor.

           Atfirstshewouldn’tcomeatall;andthenshepleadedforfiveminutesbymywatch.Whenatlengthsheputherarmthroughmine,tobetakentothedrawing-room,hercharminglittlefacewasflushed,andhadneverbeensopretty.But,whenwewentintotheroom,anditturnedpale,shewastenthousandtimesprettieryet.

           DorawasafraidofAgnes.ShehadtoldmethatsheknewAgneswas‘tooclever’.

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