Дэвид Копперфильд

Little Em’ly

           WhenlittleEm’lygrewmorecourageous,andtalked(butstillbashfully)acrossthefiretome,ofouroldwanderingsuponthebeach,topickupshellsandpebbles;andwhenIaskedherifsherecollectedhowIusedtobedevotedtoher;andwhenwebothlaughedandreddened,castingtheselooksbackonthepleasantoldtimes,sounrealtolookatnow;hewassilentandattentive,andobservedusthoughtfully.Shesat,atthistime,andalltheevening,ontheoldlockerinheroldlittlecornerbythefireHambesideher,whereIusedtosit.Icouldnotsatisfymyselfwhetheritwasinherownlittletormentingway,orinamaidenlyreservebeforeus,thatshekeptquiteclosetothewall,andawayfromhim;butIobservedthatshedidso,alltheevening.

           AsIremember,itwasalmostmidnightwhenwetookourleave.Wehadhadsomebiscuitanddriedfishforsupper,andSteerforthhadproducedfromhispocketafullflaskofHollands,whichwemen(Imaysaywemen,now,withoutablush)hademptied.Wepartedmerrily;andastheyallstoodcrowdedroundthedoortolightusasfarastheycoulduponourroad,IsawthesweetblueeyesoflittleEm’lypeepingafterus,frombehindHam,andheardhersoftvoicecallingtoustobecarefulhowwewent.

           ‘AmostengaginglittleBeauty!’saidSteerforth,takingmyarm.‘Well!It’saquaintplace,andtheyarequaintcompany,andit’squiteanewsensationtomixwiththem

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