Дэвид Копперфильд

I Corroborate Mr. Dick, and Choose a Profession

           

           ‘No,ma’am,’returnedMrs.Crupp.‘Cigarsandpipes.’

           ‘That’snotcatching,Trot,atanyrate,’remarkedmyaunt,turningtome.

           ‘No,indeed,’saidI.

           Inshort,myaunt,seeinghowenrapturedIwaswiththepremises,tookthemforamonth,withleavetoremainfortwelvemonthswhenthattimewasout.Mrs.Cruppwastofindlinen,andtocook;everyothernecessarywasalreadyprovided;andMrs.Cruppexpresslyintimatedthatsheshouldalwaysyearntowardsmeasason.Iwastotakepossessionthedayaftertomorrow,andMrs.Cruppsaid,thankHeavenshehadnowfoundsummunshecouldcarefor!

           Onourwayback,myauntinformedmehowsheconfidentlytrustedthatthelifeIwasnowtoleadwouldmakemefirmandself-reliant,whichwasallIwanted.Sherepeatedthisseveraltimesnextday,intheintervalsofourarrangingforthetransmissionofmyclothesandbooksfromMr.Wickfield’s;relativetowhich,andtoallmylateholiday,IwrotealonglettertoAgnes,ofwhichmyaunttookcharge,asshewastoleaveonthesucceedingday

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