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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 269/820
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‘
Clever
!
She
brings
everything
to
a
grindstone
,
’
said
Steerforth
,
and
sharpens
it
,
as
she
has
sharpened
her
own
face
and
figure
these
years
past
.
She
has
worn
herself
away
by
constant
sharpening
.
She
is
all
edge
.
’
‘
What
a
remarkable
scar
that
is
upon
her
lip
!
’
I
said
.
Steerforth
’
s
face
fell
,
and
he
paused
a
moment
.
‘
Why
,
the
fact
is
,
’
he
returned
,
‘
I
did
that
.
’
‘
By
an
unfortunate
accident
!
’
‘
No
.
I
was
a
young
boy
,
and
she
exasperated
me
,
and
I
threw
a
hammer
at
her
.
A
promising
young
angel
I
must
have
been
!
’
I
was
deeply
sorry
to
have
touched
on
such
a
painful
theme
,
but
that
was
useless
now
.
‘
She
has
borne
the
mark
ever
since
,
as
you
see
,
’
said
Steerforth
;
‘
and
she
’
ll
bear
it
to
her
grave
,
if
she
ever
rests
in
one
—
though
I
can
hardly
believe
she
will
ever
rest
anywhere
.
She
was
the
motherless
child
of
a
sort
of
cousin
of
my
father
’
s
.
He
died
one
day
.
My
mother
,
who
was
then
a
widow
,
brought
her
here
to
be
company
to
her
.
She
has
a
couple
of
thousand
pounds
of
her
own
,
and
saves
the
interest
of
it
every
year
,
to
add
to
the
principal
.
There
’
s
the
history
of
Miss
Rosa
Dartle
for
you
.
’
‘
And
I
have
no
doubt
she
loves
you
like
a
brother
?
’
said
I
.
‘
Humph
!
’
retorted
Steerforth
,
looking
at
the
fire
.
‘
Some
brothers
are
not
loved
over
much
;
and
some
love
—
but
help
yourself
,
Copperfield
!
We
’
ll
drink
the
daisies
of
the
field
,
in
compliment
to
you
;
and
the
lilies
of
the
valley
that
toil
not
,
neither
do
they
spin
,
in
compliment
to
me
—
the
more
shame
for
me
!
’
A
moody
smile
that
had
overspread
his
features
cleared
off
as
he
said
this
merrily
,
and
he
was
his
own
frank
,
winning
self
again
.
