Дэвид Копперфильд

I Observe

           

           Icouldn’tquiteunderstandwhyPeggottylookedsoqueer,orwhyshewassoreadytogobacktothecrocodiles.However,wereturnedtothosemonsters,withfreshwakefulnessonmypart,andwelefttheireggsinthesandforthesuntohatch;andweranawayfromthem,andbaffledthembyconstantlyturning,whichtheywereunabletodoquickly,onaccountoftheirunwieldymake;andwewentintothewaterafterthem,asnatives,andputsharppiecesoftimberdowntheirthroats;andinshortweranthewholecrocodilegauntlet.Idid,atleast;butIhadmydoubtsofPeggotty,whowasthoughtfullystickingherneedleintovariouspartsofherfaceandarms,allthetime.

           Wehadexhaustedthecrocodiles,andbegunwiththealligators,whenthegarden-bellrang.Wewentouttothedoor;andtherewasmymother,lookingunusuallypretty,Ithought,andwithheragentlemanwithbeautifulblackhairandwhiskers,whohadwalkedhomewithusfromchurchlastSunday.

           Asmymotherstoopeddownonthethresholdtotakemeinherarmsandkissme,thegentlemansaidIwasamorehighlyprivilegedlittlefellowthanamonarchorsomethinglikethat;formylaterunderstandingcomes,Iamsensible,tomyaidhere.

           ‘Whatdoesthatmean?’Iaskedhim,overhershoulder.

           Hepattedmeonthehead;butsomehow,Ididn’tlikehimorhisdeepvoice,andIwasjealousthathishandshouldtouchmymother’sintouchingmewhichitdid.Iputitaway,aswellasIcould.

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