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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 107/820
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‘
I
don
’
t
know
how
it
is
,
’
said
Peggotty
,
‘
unless
it
’
s
on
account
of
being
stupid
,
but
my
head
never
can
pick
and
choose
its
people
.
They
come
and
they
go
,
and
they
don
’
t
come
and
they
don
’
t
go
,
just
as
they
like
.
I
wonder
what
’
s
become
of
her
?
’
‘
How
absurd
you
are
,
Peggotty
!
’
returned
my
mother
.
‘
One
would
suppose
you
wanted
a
second
visit
from
her
.
’
‘
Lord
forbid
!
’
cried
Peggotty
.
‘
Well
then
,
don
’
t
talk
about
such
uncomfortable
things
,
there
’
s
a
good
soul
,
’
said
my
mother
.
‘
Miss
Betsey
is
shut
up
in
her
cottage
by
the
sea
,
no
doubt
,
and
will
remain
there
.
At
all
events
,
she
is
not
likely
ever
to
trouble
us
again
.
’
‘
No
!
’
mused
Peggotty
.
‘
No
,
that
ain
’
t
likely
at
all
.
—
I
wonder
,
if
she
was
to
die
,
whether
she
’
d
leave
Davy
anything
?
’
‘
Good
gracious
me
,
Peggotty
,
’
returned
my
mother
,
‘
what
a
nonsensical
woman
you
are
!
when
you
know
that
she
took
offence
at
the
poor
dear
boy
’
s
ever
being
born
at
all
.
’
‘
I
suppose
she
wouldn
’
t
be
inclined
to
forgive
him
now
,
’
hinted
Peggotty
.
‘
Why
should
she
be
inclined
to
forgive
him
now
?
’
said
my
mother
,
rather
sharply
.
‘
Now
that
he
’
s
got
a
brother
,
I
mean
,
’
said
Peggotty
.
My
mother
immediately
began
to
cry
,
and
wondered
how
Peggotty
dared
to
say
such
a
thing
.
