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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 602/820
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I
delighted
him
by
saying
,
most
heartily
,
that
the
Doctor
was
deserving
of
our
best
respect
and
highest
esteem
.
‘
And
his
beautiful
wife
is
a
star
,
’
said
Mr
.
Dick
.
‘
A
shining
star
.
I
have
seen
her
shine
,
sir
.
But
,
’
bringing
his
chair
nearer
,
and
laying
one
hand
upon
my
knee
—
‘
clouds
,
sir
—
clouds
.
’
I
answered
the
solicitude
which
his
face
expressed
,
by
conveying
the
same
expression
into
my
own
,
and
shaking
my
head
.
‘
What
clouds
?
’
said
Mr
.
Dick
.
He
looked
so
wistfully
into
my
face
,
and
was
so
anxious
to
understand
,
that
I
took
great
pains
to
answer
him
slowly
and
distinctly
,
as
I
might
have
entered
on
an
explanation
to
a
child
.
‘
There
is
some
unfortunate
division
between
them
,
’
I
replied
.
‘
Some
unhappy
cause
of
separation
.
A
secret
.
It
may
be
inseparable
from
the
discrepancy
in
their
years
.
It
may
have
grown
up
out
of
almost
nothing
.
’
Mr
.
Dick
,
who
had
told
off
every
sentence
with
a
thoughtful
nod
,
paused
when
I
had
done
,
and
sat
considering
,
with
his
eyes
upon
my
face
,
and
his
hand
upon
my
knee
.
‘
Doctor
not
angry
with
her
,
Trotwood
?
’
he
said
,
after
some
time
.
‘
No
.
Devoted
to
her
.
’
