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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 387/820
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‘
All
of
whom
I
met
in
the
street
,
talking
loud
in
your
praise
,
’
returned
Steerforth
.
‘
Who
’
s
our
friend
in
the
tights
?
’
I
gave
him
the
best
idea
I
could
,
in
a
few
words
,
of
Mr
.
Micawber
.
He
laughed
heartily
at
my
feeble
portrait
of
that
gentleman
,
and
said
he
was
a
man
to
know
,
and
he
must
know
him
.
‘
But
who
do
you
suppose
our
other
friend
is
?
’
said
I
,
in
my
turn
.
‘
Heaven
knows
,
’
said
Steerforth
.
‘
Not
a
bore
,
I
hope
?
I
thought
he
looked
a
little
like
one
.
’
‘
Traddles
!
’
I
replied
,
triumphantly
.
‘
Who
’
s
he
?
’
asked
Steerforth
,
in
his
careless
way
.
‘
Don
’
t
you
remember
Traddles
?
Traddles
in
our
room
at
Salem
House
?
’
‘
Oh
!
That
fellow
!
’
said
Steerforth
,
beating
a
lump
of
coal
on
the
top
of
the
fire
,
with
the
poker
.
‘
Is
he
as
soft
as
ever
?
And
where
the
deuce
did
you
pick
him
up
?
’
I
extolled
Traddles
in
reply
,
as
highly
as
I
could
;
for
I
felt
that
Steerforth
rather
slighted
him
.
Steerforth
,
dismissing
the
subject
with
a
light
nod
,
and
a
smile
,
and
the
remark
that
he
would
be
glad
to
see
the
old
fellow
too
,
for
he
had
always
been
an
odd
fish
,
inquired
if
I
could
give
him
anything
to
eat
?
During
most
of
this
short
dialogue
,
when
he
had
not
been
speaking
in
a
wild
vivacious
manner
,
he
had
sat
idly
beating
on
the
lump
of
coal
with
the
poker
.
I
observed
that
he
did
the
same
thing
while
I
was
getting
out
the
remains
of
the
pigeon
-
pie
,
and
so
forth
.
‘
Why
,
Daisy
,
here
’
s
a
supper
for
a
king
!
’
he
exclaimed
,
starting
out
of
his
silence
with
a
burst
,
and
taking
his
seat
at
the
table
.
‘
I
shall
do
it
justice
,
for
I
have
come
from
Yarmouth
.
’
