Девід Копперфільд

A Retrospect

           IadoreMissShepherd.Sheisalittlegirl,inaspencer,witharoundfaceandcurlyflaxenhair.TheMissesNettingalls’youngladiescometotheCathedraltoo.Icannotlookuponmybook,forImustlookuponMissShepherd.Whenthechoristerschaunt,IhearMissShepherd.IntheserviceImentallyinsertMissShepherd’snameIputherinamongtheRoyalFamily.Athome,inmyownroom,Iamsometimesmovedtocryout,‘Oh,MissShepherd!’inatransportoflove.

           Forsometime,IamdoubtfulofMissShepherd’sfeelings,but,atlength,Fatebeingpropitious,wemeetatthedancing-school.IhaveMissShepherdformypartner.ItouchMissShepherd’sglove,andfeelathrillgouptherightarmofmyjacket,andcomeoutatmyhair.IsaynothingtoMissShepherd,butweunderstandeachother.MissShepherdandmyselflivebuttobeunited.

           WhydoIsecretlygiveMissShepherdtwelveBrazilnutsforapresent,Iwonder?Theyarenotexpressiveofaffection,theyaredifficulttopackintoaparcelofanyregularshape,theyarehardtocrack,eveninroomdoors,andtheyareoilywhencracked;yetIfeelthattheyareappropriatetoMissShepherd.Soft,seedybiscuits,also,IbestowuponMissShepherd;andorangesinnumerable.Once,IkissMissShepherdinthecloak-room.

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Roboto Lora
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