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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 508/820
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This
was
small
consolation
,
but
Miss
Mills
wouldn
’
t
encourage
fallacious
hopes
.
She
made
me
much
more
wretched
than
I
was
before
,
and
I
felt
(
and
told
her
with
the
deepest
gratitude
)
that
she
was
indeed
a
friend
.
We
resolved
that
she
should
go
to
Dora
the
first
thing
in
the
morning
,
and
find
some
means
of
assuring
her
,
either
by
looks
or
words
,
of
my
devotion
and
misery
.
We
parted
,
overwhelmed
with
grief
;
and
I
think
Miss
Mills
enjoyed
herself
completely
.
I
confided
all
to
my
aunt
when
I
got
home
;
and
in
spite
of
all
she
could
say
to
me
,
went
to
bed
despairing
.
I
got
up
despairing
,
and
went
out
despairing
.
It
was
Saturday
morning
,
and
I
went
straight
to
the
Commons
.
I
was
surprised
,
when
I
came
within
sight
of
our
office
-
door
,
to
see
the
ticket
-
porters
standing
outside
talking
together
,
and
some
half
-
dozen
stragglers
gazing
at
the
windows
which
were
shut
up
.
I
quickened
my
pace
,
and
,
passing
among
them
,
wondering
at
their
looks
,
went
hurriedly
in
.
The
clerks
were
there
,
but
nobody
was
doing
anything
.
Old
Tiffey
,
for
the
first
time
in
his
life
I
should
think
,
was
sitting
on
somebody
else
’
s
stool
,
and
had
not
hung
up
his
hat
.
‘
This
is
a
dreadful
calamity
,
Mr
.
Copperfield
,
’
said
he
,
as
I
entered
.
‘
What
is
?
’
I
exclaimed
.
‘
What
’
s
the
matter
?
’
‘
Don
’
t
you
know
?
’
cried
Tiffey
,
and
all
the
rest
of
them
,
coming
round
me
.
‘
No
!
’
said
I
,
looking
from
face
to
face
.
‘
Mr
.
Spenlow
,
’
said
Tiffey
.
‘
What
about
him
!
’
