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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 461/820
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‘
My
dear
aunt
,
’
I
replied
,
‘
no
one
can
form
the
least
idea
what
she
is
!
’
‘
Ah
!
And
not
silly
?
’
said
my
aunt
.
‘
Silly
,
aunt
!
’
I
seriously
believe
it
had
never
once
entered
my
head
for
a
single
moment
,
to
consider
whether
she
was
or
not
.
I
resented
the
idea
,
of
course
;
but
I
was
in
a
manner
struck
by
it
,
as
a
new
one
altogether
.
‘
Not
light
-
headed
?
’
said
my
aunt
.
‘
Light
-
headed
,
aunt
!
’
I
could
only
repeat
this
daring
speculation
with
the
same
kind
of
feeling
with
which
I
had
repeated
the
preceding
question
.
‘
Well
,
well
!
’
said
my
aunt
.
‘
I
only
ask
.
I
don
’
t
depreciate
her
.
Poor
little
couple
!
And
so
you
think
you
were
formed
for
one
another
,
and
are
to
go
through
a
party
-
supper
-
table
kind
of
life
,
like
two
pretty
pieces
of
confectionery
,
do
you
,
Trot
?
’
She
asked
me
this
so
kindly
,
and
with
such
a
gentle
air
,
half
playful
and
half
sorrowful
,
that
I
was
quite
touched
.
‘
We
are
young
and
inexperienced
,
aunt
,
I
know
,
’
I
replied
;
‘
and
I
dare
say
we
say
and
think
a
good
deal
that
is
rather
foolish
.
But
we
love
one
another
truly
,
I
am
sure
.
If
I
thought
Dora
could
ever
love
anybody
else
,
or
cease
to
love
me
;
or
that
I
could
ever
love
anybody
else
,
or
cease
to
love
her
;
I
don
’
t
know
what
I
should
do
-
go
out
of
my
mind
,
I
think
!
’
