Дэвид Копперфильд

Blissful

           Nomatterwhatitwas,I,themoon-struckslaveofDora,perambulatedroundandroundthehouseandgardenfortwohours,lookingthroughcrevicesinthepalings,gettingmychinbydintofviolentexertionabovetherustynailsonthetop,blowingkissesatthelightsinthewindows,andromanticallycallingonthenight,atintervals,toshieldmyDoraIdon’texactlyknowwhatfrom,Isupposefromfire.Perhapsfrommice,towhichshehadagreatobjection.

           MylovewassomuchinmymindanditwassonaturaltometoconfideinPeggotty,whenIfoundheragainbymysideofaneveningwiththeoldsetofindustrialimplements,busilymakingthetourofmywardrobe,thatIimpartedtoher,inasufficientlyroundaboutway,mygreatsecret.Peggottywasstronglyinterested,butIcouldnotgetherintomyviewofthecaseatall.Shewasaudaciouslyprejudicedinmyfavour,andquiteunabletounderstandwhyIshouldhaveanymisgivings,orbelow-spiritedaboutit.‘Theyoungladymightthinkherselfwelloff,’sheobserved,‘tohavesuchabeau.AndastoherPa,’shesaid,‘whatdidthegentlemanexpect,forgracioussake!’

           Iobserved,however,thatMr.Spenlow’sproctorialgownandstiffcravattookPeggottydownalittle,andinspiredherwithagreaterreverenceforthemanwhowasgraduallybecomingmoreandmoreetherealizedinmyeyeseveryday,andaboutwhomareflectedradianceseemedtometobeamwhenhesaterectinCourtamonghispapers,likealittlelighthouseinaseaofstationery.

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Roboto Lora
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