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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 254/820
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‘
Indeed
!
’
‘
Poor
dear
Jack
!
’
said
Mrs
.
Markleham
,
shaking
her
head
.
‘
That
trying
climate
!
—
like
living
,
they
tell
me
,
on
a
sand
-
heap
,
underneath
a
burning
-
glass
!
He
looked
strong
,
but
he
wasn
’
t
.
My
dear
Doctor
,
it
was
his
spirit
,
not
his
constitution
,
that
he
ventured
on
so
boldly
.
Annie
,
my
dear
,
I
am
sure
you
must
perfectly
recollect
that
your
cousin
never
was
strong
—
not
what
can
be
called
ROBUST
,
you
know
,
’
said
Mrs
.
Markleham
,
with
emphasis
,
and
looking
round
upon
us
generally
,
‘
-
from
the
time
when
my
daughter
and
himself
were
children
together
,
and
walking
about
,
arm
-
in
-
arm
,
the
livelong
day
.
’
Annie
,
thus
addressed
,
made
no
reply
.
‘
Do
I
gather
from
what
you
say
,
ma
’
am
,
that
Mr
.
Maldon
is
ill
?
’
asked
Mr
.
Wickfield
.
‘
Ill
!
’
replied
the
Old
Soldier
.
‘
My
dear
sir
,
he
’
s
all
sorts
of
things
.
’
‘
Except
well
?
’
said
Mr
.
Wickfield
.
‘
Except
well
,
indeed
!
’
said
the
Old
Soldier
.
‘
He
has
had
dreadful
strokes
of
the
sun
,
no
doubt
,
and
jungle
fevers
and
agues
,
and
every
kind
of
thing
you
can
mention
.
As
to
his
liver
,
’
said
the
Old
Soldier
resignedly
,
‘
that
,
of
course
,
he
gave
up
altogether
,
when
he
first
went
out
!
’
‘
Does
he
say
all
this
?
’
asked
Mr
.
Wickfield
.
‘
Say
?
My
dear
sir
,
’
returned
Mrs
.
Markleham
,
shaking
her
head
and
her
fan
,
‘
you
little
know
my
poor
Jack
Maldon
when
you
ask
that
question
.
Say
?
Not
he
.
You
might
drag
him
at
the
heels
of
four
wild
horses
first
.
’
‘
Mama
!
’
said
Mrs
.
Strong
.
