Дэвид Копперфильд

My Aunt Astonishes Me

           

           ‘MydearCopperfield,’criedTraddles,punctuallyappearingatmydoor,inspiteofalltheseobstacles,‘howdoyoudo?’

           ‘MydearTraddles,’saidI,‘Iamdelightedtoseeyouatlast,andverysorryIhavenotbeenathomebefore.ButIhavebeensomuchengaged

           ‘Yes,yes,Iknow,’saidTraddles,‘ofcourse.YourslivesinLondon,Ithink.’

           ‘Whatdidyousay?’

           ‘SheexcusemeMissD.,youknow,’saidTraddles,colouringinhisgreatdelicacy,‘livesinLondon,Ibelieve?’

           ‘Ohyes.NearLondon.’

           ‘Mine,perhapsyourecollect,’saidTraddles,withaseriouslook,‘livesdowninDevonshireoneoften.Consequently,Iamnotsomuchengagedasyouinthatsense.’

           ‘Iwonderyoucanbear,’Ireturned,‘toseehersoseldom.’

           ‘Hah!’saidTraddles,thoughtfully.‘Itdoesseemawonder.Isupposeitis,Copperfield,becausethereisnohelpforit?’

           ‘Isupposeso,’Irepliedwithasmile,andnotwithoutablush.‘Andbecauseyouhavesomuchconstancyandpatience,Traddles.’

           ‘Dearme!’saidTraddles,consideringaboutit,‘doIstrikeyouinthatway,Copperfield?ReallyIdidn’tknowthatIhad.Butsheissuchanextraordinarilydeargirlherself,thatit’spossibleshemayhaveimpartedsomethingofthosevirtuestome.

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