Дэвид Копперфильд

Depression

           ButIleavemypartnertorepresentthefirm.MissAgnes,everyours!Iwishyougood-day,MasterCopperfield,andleavemyumblerespectsforMissBetseyTrotwood.’

           Withthosewords,heretired,kissinghisgreathand,andleeringatuslikeamask.

           Wesatthere,talkingaboutourpleasantoldCanterburydays,anhourortwo.Mr.Wickfield,lefttoAgnes,soonbecamemorelikehisformerself;thoughtherewasasettleddepressionuponhim,whichhenevershookoff.Forallthat,hebrightened;andhadanevidentpleasureinhearingusrecallthelittleincidentsofouroldlife,manyofwhichherememberedverywell.Hesaiditwaslikethosetimes,tobealonewithAgnesandmeagain;andhewishedtoHeaventheyhadneverchanged.IamsuretherewasaninfluenceintheplacidfaceofAgnes,andintheverytouchofherhanduponhisarm,thatdidwondersforhim.

           Myaunt(whowasbusynearlyallthiswhilewithPeggotty,intheinnerroom)wouldnotaccompanyustotheplacewheretheywerestaying,butinsistedonmygoing;andIwent.Wedinedtogether.Afterdinner,Agnessatbesidehim,asofold,andpouredouthiswine.Hetookwhatshegavehim,andnomorelikeachildandweallthreesattogetheratawindowastheeveninggatheredin.Whenitwasalmostdark,helaydownonasofa,Agnespillowinghisheadandbendingoverhimalittlewhile;andwhenshecamebacktothewindow,itwasnotsodarkbutIcouldseetearsglitteringinhereyes

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