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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 641/820
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At
last
I
ran
away
myself
,
whenever
I
saw
an
emissary
of
the
police
approaching
with
some
new
intelligence
;
and
lived
a
stealthy
life
until
he
was
tried
and
ordered
to
be
transported
.
Even
then
he
couldn
’
t
be
quiet
,
but
was
always
writing
us
letters
;
and
wanted
so
much
to
see
Dora
before
he
went
away
,
that
Dora
went
to
visit
him
,
and
fainted
when
she
found
herself
inside
the
iron
bars
.
In
short
,
I
had
no
peace
of
my
life
until
he
was
expatriated
,
and
made
(
as
I
afterwards
heard
)
a
shepherd
of
,
‘
up
the
country
’
somewhere
;
I
have
no
geographical
idea
where
.
All
this
led
me
into
some
serious
reflections
,
and
presented
our
mistakes
in
a
new
aspect
;
as
I
could
not
help
communicating
to
Dora
one
evening
,
in
spite
of
my
tenderness
for
her
.
‘
My
love
,
’
said
I
,
‘
it
is
very
painful
to
me
to
think
that
our
want
of
system
and
management
,
involves
not
only
ourselves
(
which
we
have
got
used
to
)
,
but
other
people
.
’
‘
You
have
been
silent
for
a
long
time
,
and
now
you
are
going
to
be
cross
!
’
said
Dora
.
‘
No
,
my
dear
,
indeed
!
Let
me
explain
to
you
what
I
mean
.
’
‘
I
think
I
don
’
t
want
to
know
,
’
said
Dora
.
‘
But
I
want
you
to
know
,
my
love
.
Put
Jip
down
.
’
Dora
put
his
nose
to
mine
,
and
said
‘
Boh
!
’
to
drive
my
seriousness
away
;
but
,
not
succeeding
,
ordered
him
into
his
Pagoda
,
and
sat
looking
at
me
,
with
her
hands
folded
,
and
a
most
resigned
little
expression
of
countenance
.
‘
The
fact
is
,
my
dear
,
’
I
began
,
‘
there
is
contagion
in
us
.
We
infect
everyone
about
us
.
