Дэвид Копперфильд

I Am a New Boy in More Senses than One

           Hewasratherashallowsortofyounggentleman,Ithought,withahandsomeface,arapidutterance,andaconfident,boldair.AndthiswasthefirstIeversawofMr.JackMaldon;whomIhadnotexpectedtoseesosoon,whenIheardtheDoctorspeakofhimthatmorning.

           Whenwehaddined,wewentupstairsagain,whereeverythingwentonexactlyasonthepreviousday.Agnessettheglassesanddecantersinthesamecorner,andMr.Wickfieldsatdowntodrink,anddrankagooddeal.Agnesplayedthepianotohim,satbyhim,andworkedandtalked,andplayedsomegamesatdominoeswithme.Ingoodtimeshemadetea;andafterwards,whenIbroughtdownmybooks,lookedintothem,andshowedmewhatsheknewofthem(whichwasnoslightmatter,thoughshesaiditwas),andwhatwasthebestwaytolearnandunderstandthem.Iseeher,withhermodest,orderly,placidmanner,andIhearherbeautifulcalmvoice,asIwritethesewords.Theinfluenceforallgood,whichshecametoexerciseovermeatalatertime,beginsalreadytodescenduponmybreast.IlovelittleEm’ly,andIdon’tloveAgnesno,notatallinthatwaybutIfeelthattherearegoodness,peace,andtruth,whereverAgnesis;andthatthesoftlightofthecolouredwindowinthechurch,seenlongago,fallsonheralways,andonmewhenIamnearher,andoneverythingaround.

           Thetimehavingcomeforherwithdrawalforthenight,andshehavingleftus,IgaveMr.Wickfieldmyhand,preparatorytogoingawaymyself.

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