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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 12/820
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Mr
.
Chillip
was
fluttered
again
,
by
the
extreme
severity
of
my
aunt
’
s
manner
;
so
he
made
her
a
little
bow
and
gave
her
a
little
smile
,
to
mollify
her
.
‘
Mercy
on
the
man
,
what
’
s
he
doing
!
’
cried
my
aunt
,
impatiently
.
‘
Can
’
t
he
speak
?
’
‘
Be
calm
,
my
dear
ma
’
am
,
’
said
Mr
.
Chillip
,
in
his
softest
accents
.
‘
There
is
no
longer
any
occasion
for
uneasiness
,
ma
’
am
.
Be
calm
.
’
It
has
since
been
considered
almost
a
miracle
that
my
aunt
didn
’
t
shake
him
,
and
shake
what
he
had
to
say
,
out
of
him
.
She
only
shook
her
own
head
at
him
,
but
in
a
way
that
made
him
quail
.
‘
Well
,
ma
’
am
,
’
resumed
Mr
.
Chillip
,
as
soon
as
he
had
courage
,
‘
I
am
happy
to
congratulate
you
.
All
is
now
over
,
ma
’
am
,
and
well
over
.
’
During
the
five
minutes
or
so
that
Mr
.
Chillip
devoted
to
the
delivery
of
this
oration
,
my
aunt
eyed
him
narrowly
.
‘
How
is
she
?
’
said
my
aunt
,
folding
her
arms
with
her
bonnet
still
tied
on
one
of
them
.
‘
Well
,
ma
’
am
,
she
will
soon
be
quite
comfortable
,
I
hope
,
’
returned
Mr
.
Chillip
.
‘
Quite
as
comfortable
as
we
can
expect
a
young
mother
to
be
,
under
these
melancholy
domestic
circumstances
.
There
cannot
be
any
objection
to
your
seeing
her
presently
,
ma
’
am
.
It
may
do
her
good
.
’
