I Fall into Disgrace

           Iftheroomtowhichmybedwasremovedwereasentientthingthatcouldgiveevidence,Imightappealtoitatthisdaywhosleepstherenow,Iwonder!tobearwitnessformewhataheavyheartIcarriedtoit.Iwentupthere,hearingthedogintheyardbarkaftermeallthewaywhileIclimbedthestairs;and,lookingasblankandstrangeupontheroomastheroomlookeduponme,satdownwithmysmallhandscrossed,andthought.

           Ithoughtoftheoddestthings.Oftheshapeoftheroom,ofthecracksintheceiling,ofthepaperonthewalls,oftheflawsinthewindow-glassmakingripplesanddimplesontheprospect,ofthewashing-standbeingricketyonitsthreelegs,andhavingadiscontentedsomethingaboutit,whichremindedmeofMrs.Gummidgeundertheinfluenceoftheoldone.Iwascryingallthetime,but,exceptthatIwasconsciousofbeingcoldanddejected,IamsureIneverthoughtwhyIcried.AtlastinmydesolationIbegantoconsiderthatIwasdreadfullyinlovewithlittleEm’ly,andhadbeentornawayfromhertocomeherewherenooneseemedtowantme,ortocareaboutme,halfasmuchasshedid.Thismadesuchaverymiserablepieceofbusinessofit,thatIrolledmyselfupinacornerofthecounterpane,andcriedmyselftosleep.

           Iwasawokebysomebodysaying‘Hereheis!’anduncoveringmyhothead.MymotherandPeggottyhadcometolookforme,anditwasoneofthemwhohaddoneit.

           ‘Davy,’saidmymother.

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Roboto Lora
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