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- Авторы
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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 563/820
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‘
My
love
!
’
said
I
,
‘
what
nonsense
!
’
‘
Do
you
think
it
is
nonsense
?
’
returned
Dora
,
without
looking
at
me
.
‘
Are
you
sure
it
is
?
’
‘
Of
course
I
am
!
’
‘
I
have
forgotten
,
’
said
Dora
,
still
turning
the
button
round
and
round
,
‘
what
relation
Agnes
is
to
you
,
you
dear
bad
boy
.
’
‘
No
blood
-
relation
,
’
I
replied
;
‘
but
we
were
brought
up
together
,
like
brother
and
sister
.
’
‘
I
wonder
why
you
ever
fell
in
love
with
me
?
’
said
Dora
,
beginning
on
another
button
of
my
coat
.
‘
Perhaps
because
I
couldn
’
t
see
you
,
and
not
love
you
,
Dora
!
’
‘
Suppose
you
had
never
seen
me
at
all
,
’
said
Dora
,
going
to
another
button
.
‘
Suppose
we
had
never
been
born
!
’
said
I
,
gaily
.
I
wondered
what
she
was
thinking
about
,
as
I
glanced
in
admiring
silence
at
the
little
soft
hand
travelling
up
the
row
of
buttons
on
my
coat
,
and
at
the
clustering
hair
that
lay
against
my
breast
,
and
at
the
lashes
of
her
downcast
eyes
,
slightly
rising
as
they
followed
her
idle
fingers
.
At
length
her
eyes
were
lifted
up
to
mine
,
and
she
stood
on
tiptoe
to
give
me
,
more
thoughtfully
than
usual
,
that
precious
little
kiss
—
once
,
twice
,
three
times
—
and
went
out
of
the
room
.
