Девід Копперфільд

I Am a New Boy in More Senses than One

           Wickfield.‘Itmighthavesimplifiedmyofficeverymuch,ifIhadknownitbefore.ButIconfessIentertainedanotherimpression.’

           DoctorStrongregardedhimwithapuzzledanddoubtinglook,whichalmostimmediatelysubsidedintoasmilethatgavemegreatencouragement;foritwasfullofamiabilityandsweetness,andtherewasasimplicityinit,andindeedinhiswholemanner,whenthestudious,ponderingfrostuponitwasgotthrough,veryattractiveandhopefultoayoungscholarlikeme.Repeating‘no’,and‘nottheleast’,andothershortassurancestothesamepurport,DoctorStrongjoggedonbeforeus,ataqueer,unevenpace;andwefollowed:Mr.Wickfield,lookinggrave,Iobserved,andshakinghisheadtohimself,withoutknowingthatIsawhim.

           Theschoolroomwasaprettylargehall,onthequietestsideofthehouse,confrontedbythestatelystareofsomehalf-dozenofthegreaturns,andcommandingapeepofanoldsecludedgardenbelongingtotheDoctor,wherethepeacheswereripeningonthesunnysouthwall.Thereweretwogreataloes,intubs,ontheturfoutsidethewindows;thebroadhardleavesofwhichplant(lookingasiftheyweremadeofpaintedtin)haveeversince,byassociation,beensymbolicaltomeofsilenceandretirement.Aboutfive-and-twentyboyswerestudiouslyengagedattheirbookswhenwewentin,buttheyrosetogivetheDoctorgoodmorning,andremainedstandingwhentheysawMr.Wickfieldandme.

Налаштування
Фон сторінки
Розмір шрифту
Міжрядковий інтервал
Фразові дієслова
Показати / Приховати меню
Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Сторінка 367 з 1418