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- Авторы
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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 645/820
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She
put
her
arms
round
my
neck
,
and
laughed
,
and
called
herself
by
her
favourite
name
of
a
goose
,
and
hid
her
face
on
my
shoulder
in
such
a
profusion
of
curls
that
it
was
quite
a
task
to
clear
them
away
and
see
it
.
‘
Don
’
t
I
think
it
would
have
been
better
to
have
done
nothing
,
than
to
have
tried
to
form
my
little
wife
’
s
mind
?
’
said
I
,
laughing
at
myself
.
‘
Is
that
the
question
?
Yes
,
indeed
,
I
do
.
’
‘
Is
that
what
you
have
been
trying
?
’
cried
Dora
.
‘
Oh
what
a
shocking
boy
!
’
‘
But
I
shall
never
try
any
more
,
’
said
I
.
‘
For
I
love
her
dearly
as
she
is
.
’
‘
Without
a
story
—
really
?
’
inquired
Dora
,
creeping
closer
to
me
.
‘
Why
should
I
seek
to
change
,
’
said
I
,
‘
what
has
been
so
precious
to
me
for
so
long
!
You
never
can
show
better
than
as
your
own
natural
self
,
my
sweet
Dora
;
and
we
’
ll
try
no
conceited
experiments
,
but
go
back
to
our
old
way
,
and
be
happy
.
’
‘
And
be
happy
!
’
returned
Dora
.
‘
Yes
!
All
day
!
And
you
won
’
t
mind
things
going
a
tiny
morsel
wrong
,
sometimes
?
’
‘
No
,
no
,
’
said
I
.
‘
We
must
do
the
best
we
can
.
’
‘
And
you
won
’
t
tell
me
,
any
more
,
that
we
make
other
people
bad
,
’
coaxed
Dora
;
‘
will
you
?
Because
you
know
it
’
s
so
dreadfully
cross
!
’
