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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 336/820
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‘
Yes
,
Agnes
,
my
good
Angel
!
Always
my
good
Angel
!
’
‘
If
I
were
,
indeed
,
Trotwood
,
’
she
returned
,
‘
there
is
one
thing
that
I
should
set
my
heart
on
very
much
.
’
I
looked
at
her
inquiringly
;
but
already
with
a
foreknowledge
of
her
meaning
.
‘
On
warning
you
,
’
said
Agnes
,
with
a
steady
glance
,
‘
against
your
bad
Angel
.
’
‘
My
dear
Agnes
,
’
I
began
,
‘
if
you
mean
Steerforth
—
—
’
‘
I
do
,
Trotwood
,
’
she
returned
.
‘
Then
,
Agnes
,
you
wrong
him
very
much
.
He
my
bad
Angel
,
or
anyone
’
s
!
He
,
anything
but
a
guide
,
a
support
,
and
a
friend
to
me
!
My
dear
Agnes
!
Now
,
is
it
not
unjust
,
and
unlike
you
,
to
judge
him
from
what
you
saw
of
me
the
other
night
?
’
‘
I
do
not
judge
him
from
what
I
saw
of
you
the
other
night
,
’
she
quietly
replied
.
‘
From
what
,
then
?
’
‘
From
many
things
—
trifles
in
themselves
,
but
they
do
not
seem
to
me
to
be
so
,
when
they
are
put
together
.
I
judge
him
,
partly
from
your
account
of
him
,
Trotwood
,
and
your
character
,
and
the
influence
he
has
over
you
.
’
There
was
always
something
in
her
modest
voice
that
seemed
to
touch
a
chord
within
me
,
answering
to
that
sound
alone
.
It
was
always
earnest
;
but
when
it
was
very
earnest
,
as
it
was
now
,
there
was
a
thrill
in
it
that
quite
subdued
me
.
