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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 445/820
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Mr
.
Mills
was
not
at
home
.
I
did
not
expect
he
would
be
.
Nobody
wanted
HIM
.
Miss
Mills
was
at
home
.
Miss
Mills
would
do
.
I
was
shown
into
a
room
upstairs
,
where
Miss
Mills
and
Dora
were
.
Jip
was
there
.
Miss
Mills
was
copying
music
(
I
recollect
,
it
was
a
new
song
,
called
‘
Affection
’
s
Dirge
’
)
,
and
Dora
was
painting
flowers
.
What
were
my
feelings
,
when
I
recognized
my
own
flowers
;
the
identical
Covent
Garden
Market
purchase
!
I
cannot
say
that
they
were
very
like
,
or
that
they
particularly
resembled
any
flowers
that
have
ever
come
under
my
observation
;
but
I
knew
from
the
paper
round
them
which
was
accurately
copied
,
what
the
composition
was
.
Miss
Mills
was
very
glad
to
see
me
,
and
very
sorry
her
papa
was
not
at
home
:
though
I
thought
we
all
bore
that
with
fortitude
.
Miss
Mills
was
conversational
for
a
few
minutes
,
and
then
,
laying
down
her
pen
upon
‘
Affection
’
s
Dirge
’
,
got
up
,
and
left
the
room
.
I
began
to
think
I
would
put
it
off
till
tomorrow
.
‘
I
hope
your
poor
horse
was
not
tired
,
when
he
got
home
at
night
,
’
said
Dora
,
lifting
up
her
beautiful
eyes
.
‘
It
was
a
long
way
for
him
.
’
I
began
to
think
I
would
do
it
today
.
‘
It
was
a
long
way
for
him
,
’
said
I
,
‘
for
he
had
nothing
to
uphold
him
on
the
journey
.
’
‘
Wasn
’
t
he
fed
,
poor
thing
?
’
asked
Dora
.
I
began
to
think
I
would
put
it
off
till
tomorrow
.
