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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 63/820
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‘
Oh
,
no
.
She
never
had
a
sweetheart
.
’
‘
Didn
’
t
she
,
though
!
’
said
Mr
.
Barkis
.
Again
he
made
up
his
mouth
to
whistle
,
and
again
he
didn
’
t
whistle
,
but
sat
looking
at
the
horse
’
s
ears
.
‘
So
she
makes
,
’
said
Mr
.
Barkis
,
after
a
long
interval
of
reflection
,
‘
all
the
apple
parsties
,
and
doos
all
the
cooking
,
do
she
?
’
I
replied
that
such
was
the
fact
.
‘
Well
.
I
’
ll
tell
you
what
,
’
said
Mr
.
Barkis
.
‘
P
’
raps
you
might
be
writin
’
to
her
?
’
‘
I
shall
certainly
write
to
her
,
’
I
rejoined
.
‘
Ah
!
’
he
said
,
slowly
turning
his
eyes
towards
me
.
‘
Well
!
If
you
was
writin
’
to
her
,
p
’
raps
you
’
d
recollect
to
say
that
Barkis
was
willin
’
;
would
you
?
’
‘
That
Barkis
is
willing
,
’
I
repeated
,
innocently
.
‘
Is
that
all
the
message
?
’
‘
Ye
-
es
,
’
he
said
,
considering
.
‘
Ye
-
es
.
Barkis
is
willin
’
.
’
