Дэвид Копперфильд

I Am a New Boy in More Senses than One

           

           ‘Quiteso,’returnedtheother,‘-wouldonlyhavetosay,thatshewantedsuchandsuchathingtobesoandso;anditwouldbesoandso,asamatterofcourse.’

           ‘Andwhyasamatterofcourse,Mr.Maldon?’askedMr.Wickfield,sedatelyeatinghisdinner.

           ‘Why,becauseAnnie’sacharmingyounggirl,andtheoldDoctorDoctorStrong,Imeanisnotquiteacharmingyoungboy,’saidMr.JackMaldon,laughing.‘Nooffencetoanybody,Mr.Wickfield.IonlymeanthatIsupposesomecompensationisfairandreasonableinthatsortofmarriage.’

           ‘Compensationtothelady,sir?’askedMr.Wickfieldgravely.

           ‘Tothelady,sir,’Mr.JackMaldonanswered,laughing.ButappearingtoremarkthatMr.Wickfieldwentonwithhisdinnerinthesamesedate,immovablemanner,andthattherewasnohopeofmakinghimrelaxamuscleofhisface,headded:‘However,IhavesaidwhatIcametosay,and,withanotherapologyforthisintrusion,Imaytakemyselfoff.OfcourseIshallobserveyourdirections,inconsideringthematterasonetobearrangedbetweenyouandmesolely,andnottobereferredto,upattheDoctor’s.’

           ‘Haveyoudined?’askedMr.Wickfield,withamotionofhishandtowardsthetable.

           ‘Thank’ee.Iamgoingtodine,’saidMr.Maldon,‘withmycousinAnnie.Good-bye!’

           Mr.Wickfield,withoutrising,lookedafterhimthoughtfullyashewentout.

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