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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 585/820
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‘
my
precious
wife
,
’
said
I
,
‘
we
must
be
serious
sometimes
.
Come
!
Sit
down
on
this
chair
,
close
beside
me
!
Give
me
the
pencil
!
There
!
Now
let
us
talk
sensibly
.
You
know
,
dear
’
;
what
a
little
hand
it
was
to
hold
,
and
what
a
tiny
wedding
-
ring
it
was
to
see
!
‘
You
know
,
my
love
,
it
is
not
exactly
comfortable
to
have
to
go
out
without
one
’
s
dinner
.
Now
,
is
it
?
’
‘
N
-
n
-
no
!
’
replied
Dora
,
faintly
.
‘
My
love
,
how
you
tremble
!
’
‘
Because
I
KNOW
you
’
re
going
to
scold
me
,
’
exclaimed
Dora
,
in
a
piteous
voice
.
‘
My
sweet
,
I
am
only
going
to
reason
.
’
‘
Oh
,
but
reasoning
is
worse
than
scolding
!
’
exclaimed
Dora
,
in
despair
.
‘
I
didn
’
t
marry
to
be
reasoned
with
.
If
you
meant
to
reason
with
such
a
poor
little
thing
as
I
am
,
you
ought
to
have
told
me
so
,
you
cruel
boy
!
’
I
tried
to
pacify
Dora
,
but
she
turned
away
her
face
,
and
shook
her
curls
from
side
to
side
,
and
said
,
‘
You
cruel
,
cruel
boy
!
’
so
many
times
,
that
I
really
did
not
exactly
know
what
to
do
:
so
I
took
a
few
turns
up
and
down
the
room
in
my
uncertainty
,
and
came
back
again
.
‘
Dora
,
my
darling
!
’
‘
No
,
I
am
not
your
darling
.
Because
you
must
be
sorry
that
you
married
me
,
or
else
you
wouldn
’
t
reason
with
me
!
’
returned
Dora
.
