Дэвид Копперфильд

Steerforth’s Home

           IfIhadseenher,first,attheboard,Ishouldhavefanciedthatherfigurehadgotthin,andhereyeshadgotlarge,overthatpursuit,andnootherintheworld.ButIamverymuchmistakenifshemissedawordofthis,orlostalookofmineasIreceiveditwiththeutmostpleasure,andhonouredbyMrs.Steerforth’sconfidence,feltolderthanIhaddonesinceIleftCanterbury.

           Whentheeveningwasprettyfarspent,andatrayofglassesanddecanterscamein,Steerforthpromised,overthefire,thathewouldseriouslythinkofgoingdownintothecountrywithme.Therewasnohurry,hesaid;aweekhencewoulddo;andhismotherhospitablysaidthesame.Whileweweretalking,hemorethanoncecalledmeDaisy;whichbroughtMissDartleoutagain.

           ‘Butreally,Mr.Copperfield,’sheasked,‘isitanickname?Andwhydoeshegiveityou?Isiteh?becausehethinksyouyoungandinnocent?Iamsostupidinthesethings.’

           IcolouredinreplyingthatIbelieveditwas.

           ‘Oh!’saidMissDartle.‘NowIamgladtoknowthat!Iaskforinformation,andIamgladtoknowit.Hethinksyouyoungandinnocent;andsoyouarehisfriend.Well,that’squitedelightful!’

           Shewenttobedsoonafterthis,andMrs.Steerforthretiredtoo.SteerforthandI,afterlingeringforhalf-an-houroverthefire,talkingaboutTraddlesandalltherestofthematoldSalemHouse,wentupstairstogether.Steerforth’sroomwasnexttomine,andIwentintolookatit

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