-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Дэвид Копперфильд
-
- Стр. 700/820
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
himself
,
on
pretence
of
such
speculations
or
otherwise
;
perpetuated
by
a
miscellaneous
catalogue
of
unscrupulous
chicaneries
—
gradually
thickened
,
until
the
unhappy
Mr
.
W
.
could
see
no
world
beyond
.
Bankrupt
,
as
he
believed
,
alike
in
circumstances
,
in
all
other
hope
,
and
in
honour
,
his
sole
reliance
was
upon
the
monster
in
the
garb
of
man
,
”
’
—
Mr
.
Micawber
made
a
good
deal
of
this
,
as
a
new
turn
of
expression
,
—
‘
“
who
,
by
making
himself
necessary
to
him
,
had
achieved
his
destruction
.
All
this
I
undertake
to
show
.
Probably
much
more
!
”
’
I
whispered
a
few
words
to
Agnes
,
who
was
weeping
,
half
joyfully
,
half
sorrowfully
,
at
my
side
;
and
there
was
a
movement
among
us
,
as
if
Mr
.
Micawber
had
finished
.
He
said
,
with
exceeding
gravity
,
‘
Pardon
me
,
’
and
proceeded
,
with
a
mixture
of
the
lowest
spirits
and
the
most
intense
enjoyment
,
to
the
peroration
of
his
letter
.
‘
“
I
have
now
concluded
.
It
merely
remains
for
me
to
substantiate
these
accusations
;
and
then
,
with
my
ill
-
starred
family
,
to
disappear
from
the
landscape
on
which
we
appear
to
be
an
encumbrance
.
That
is
soon
done
.
It
may
be
reasonably
inferred
that
our
baby
will
first
expire
of
inanition
,
as
being
the
frailest
member
of
our
circle
;
and
that
our
twins
will
follow
next
in
order
.
So
be
it
!
For
myself
,
my
Canterbury
Pilgrimage
has
done
much
;
imprisonment
on
civil
process
,
and
want
,
will
soon
do
more
.
I
trust
that
the
labour
and
hazard
of
an
investigation
—
of
which
the
smallest
results
have
been
slowly
pieced
together
,
in
the
pressure
of
arduous
avocations
,
under
grinding
penurious
apprehensions
,
at
rise
of
morn
,
at
dewy
eve
,
in
the
shadows
of
night
,
under
the
watchful
eye
of
one
whom
it
were
superfluous
to
call
Demon
—
combined
with
the
struggle
of
parental
Poverty
to
turn
it
,
when
completed
,
to
the
right
account
,
may
be
as
the
sprinkling
of
a
few
drops
of
sweet
water
on
my
funeral
pyre
.
I
ask
no
more
.
Let
it
be
,
in
justice
,
merely
said
of
me
,
as
of
a
gallant
and
eminent
naval
Hero
,
with
whom
I
have
no
pretensions
to
cope
,
that
what
I
have
done
,
I
did
,
in
despite
of
mercenary
and
selfish
objects
,
For
England
,
home
,
and
Beauty
.
‘
“
Remaining
always
,
&
c
.
&
c
.
,
WILKINS
MICAWBER
.
”
’
Much
affected
,
but
still
intensely
enjoying
himself
,
Mr
.
Micawber
folded
up
his
letter
,
and
handed
it
with
a
bow
to
my
aunt
,
as
something
she
might
like
to
keep
.
There
was
,
as
I
had
noticed
on
my
first
visit
long
ago
,
an
iron
safe
in
the
room
.
The
key
was
in
it
.
A
hasty
suspicion
seemed
to
strike
Uriah
;
and
,
with
a
glance
at
Mr
.
Micawber
,
he
went
to
it
,
and
threw
the
doors
clanking
open
.
It
was
empty
.
‘
Where
are
the
books
?
’
he
cried
,
with
a
frightful
face
.
‘
Some
thief
has
stolen
the
books
!
’
Mr
.
Micawber
tapped
himself
with
the
ruler
.
‘
I
did
,
when
I
got
the
key
from
you
as
usual
—
but
a
little
earlier
—
and
opened
it
this
morning
.
