Дэвид Копперфильд

I have a Change

           PeggottytounderstandthatshewasasjollyasIcouldwish,andthatshedesiredhercomplimentswhichwasapolitefictiononmypart.

           ‘I’mmuchobleegedtoher,I’msure,’saidMr.Peggotty.‘Well,sir,ifyoucanmakeouthere,furafortnut,‘longwi’her,’noddingathissister,‘andHam,andlittleEm’ly,weshallbeproudofyourcompany.’

           Havingdonethehonoursofhishouseinthishospitablemanner,Mr.Peggottywentouttowashhimselfinakettlefulofhotwater,remarkingthat‘coldwouldnevergethismuckoff’.Hesoonreturned,greatlyimprovedinappearance;butsorubicund,thatIcouldn’thelpthinkinghisfacehadthisincommonwiththelobsters,crabs,andcrawfish,—thatitwentintothehotwaterveryblack,andcameoutveryred.

           Aftertea,whenthedoorwasshutandallwasmadesnug(thenightsbeingcoldandmistynow),itseemedtomethemostdeliciousretreatthattheimaginationofmancouldconceive.Tohearthewindgettingupoutatsea,toknowthatthefogwascreepingoverthedesolateflatoutside,andtolookatthefire,andthinkthattherewasnohousenearbutthisone,andthisoneaboat,waslikeenchantment.LittleEm’lyhadovercomehershyness,andwassittingbymysideuponthelowestandleastofthelockers,whichwasjustlargeenoughforustwo,andjustfittedintothechimneycorner.Mrs.Peggottywiththewhiteapron,wasknittingontheoppositesideofthefire.PeggottyatherneedleworkwasasmuchathomewithSt.

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