Дэвид Копперфильд

Our Housekeeping

           Andtheywon’tdoanythingIwant!’

           ThenIwouldsay,‘Nowletustrytogether.Letmeshowyou,Dora.’

           ThenIwouldcommenceapracticaldemonstration,towhichDorawouldpayprofoundattention,perhapsforfiveminutes;whenshewouldbegintobedreadfullytired,andwouldlightenthesubjectbycurlingmyhair,ortryingtheeffectofmyfacewithmyshirt-collarturneddown.IfItacitlycheckedthisplayfulness,andpersisted,shewouldlooksoscaredanddisconsolate,asshebecamemoreandmorebewildered,thattheremembranceofhernaturalgaietywhenIfirststrayedintoherpath,andofherbeingmychild-wife,wouldcomereproachfullyuponme;andIwouldlaythepencildown,andcallfortheguitar.

           Ihadagreatdealofworktodo,andhadmanyanxieties,butthesameconsiderationsmademekeepthemtomyself.Iamfarfromsure,now,thatitwasrighttodothis,butIdiditformychild-wife’ssake.Isearchmybreast,andIcommititssecrets,ifIknowthem,withoutanyreservationtothispaper.Theoldunhappylossorwantofsomethinghad,Iamconscious,someplaceinmyheart;butnottotheembittermentofmylife.WhenIwalkedaloneinthefineweather,andthoughtofthesummerdayswhenalltheairhadbeenfilledwithmyboyishenchantment,Ididmisssomethingoftherealizationofmydreams;butIthoughtitwasasoftenedgloryofthePast,whichnothingcouldhavethrownuponthepresenttime.

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Roboto Lora
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