Дэвид Копперфильд

Wickfield and Heep

           Butthen,yousee,youmay!’

           Anythingtoequalthelowcunningofhisvisage,andofhisshadowlesseyeswithouttheghostofaneyelash,Ineversaw.

           ‘Comethen!’saidI.‘ForthesakeofMissWickfield

           ‘MyAgnes!’heexclaimed,withasickly,angularcontortionofhimself.‘WouldyoubesogoodascallherAgnes,MasterCopperfield!’

           ‘ForthesakeofAgnesWickfieldHeavenblessher!’

           ‘Thankyouforthatblessing,MasterCopperfield!‘heinterposed.

           ‘IwilltellyouwhatIshould,underanyothercircumstances,assoonhavethoughtoftellingtoJackKetch.’

           ‘Towho,sir?’saidUriah,stretchingouthisneck,andshadinghisearwithhishand.

           ‘Tothehangman,’Ireturned.‘ThemostunlikelypersonIcouldthinkof,’thoughhisownfacehadsuggestedtheallusionquiteasanaturalsequence.‘Iamengagedtoanotheryounglady.Ihopethatcontentsyou.’

           ‘Uponyoursoul?’saidUriah.

           Iwasaboutindignantlytogivemyassertiontheconfirmationherequired,whenhecaughtholdofmyhand,andgaveitasqueeze.

           ‘Oh,MasterCopperfield!’hesaid.‘IfyouhadonlyhadthecondescensiontoreturnmyconfidencewhenIpouredoutthefulnessofmyart,thenightIputyousomuchoutofthewaybysleepingbeforeyoursitting-roomfire,Inevershouldhavedoubtedyou.

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