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- Авторы
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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 360/820
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‘
No
.
’
‘
Oh
!
I
hope
you
’
ll
go
soon
!
You
would
like
it
so
much
!
’
Traces
of
deep
-
seated
anguish
appeared
in
my
countenance
.
That
she
should
hope
I
would
go
,
that
she
should
think
it
possible
I
could
go
,
was
insupportable
.
I
depreciated
Paris
;
I
depreciated
France
.
I
said
I
wouldn
’
t
leave
England
,
under
existing
circumstances
,
for
any
earthly
consideration
.
Nothing
should
induce
me
.
In
short
,
she
was
shaking
the
curls
again
,
when
the
little
dog
came
running
along
the
walk
to
our
relief
.
He
was
mortally
jealous
of
me
,
and
persisted
in
barking
at
me
.
She
took
him
up
in
her
arms
—
oh
my
goodness
!
—
and
caressed
him
,
but
he
persisted
upon
barking
still
.
He
wouldn
’
t
let
me
touch
him
,
when
I
tried
;
and
then
she
beat
him
.
It
increased
my
sufferings
greatly
to
see
the
pats
she
gave
him
for
punishment
on
the
bridge
of
his
blunt
nose
,
while
he
winked
his
eyes
,
and
licked
her
hand
,
and
still
growled
within
himself
like
a
little
double
-
bass
.
At
length
he
was
quiet
—
well
he
might
be
with
her
dimpled
chin
upon
his
head
!
—
and
we
walked
away
to
look
at
a
greenhouse
.
‘
You
are
not
very
intimate
with
Miss
Murdstone
,
are
you
?
’
said
Dora
.
—
‘
My
pet
.
’
(
The
two
last
words
were
to
the
dog
.
Oh
,
if
they
had
only
been
to
me
!
)
‘
No
,
’
I
replied
.
‘
Not
at
all
so
.
’
‘
She
is
a
tiresome
creature
,
’
said
Dora
,
pouting
.
‘
I
can
’
t
think
what
papa
can
have
been
about
,
when
he
chose
such
a
vexatious
thing
to
be
my
companion
.
Who
wants
a
protector
?
I
am
sure
I
don
’
t
want
a
protector
.
Jip
can
protect
me
a
great
deal
better
than
Miss
Murdstone
,
—
can
’
t
you
,
Jip
,
dear
?
’
