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Главная
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- Авторы
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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 721/820
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‘
Well
,
sir
,
’
sighed
my
aunt
.
‘
All
I
have
got
to
say
about
it
is
,
that
if
it
’
s
gone
,
I
can
bear
it
;
and
if
it
’
s
not
gone
,
I
shall
be
glad
to
get
it
back
.
’
‘
It
was
originally
,
I
think
,
eight
thousand
pounds
,
Consols
?
’
said
Traddles
.
‘
Right
!
’
replied
my
aunt
.
‘
I
can
’
t
account
for
more
than
five
,
’
said
Traddles
,
with
an
air
of
perplexity
.
‘
-
thousand
,
do
you
mean
?
’
inquired
my
aunt
,
with
uncommon
composure
,
‘
or
pounds
?
’
‘
Five
thousand
pounds
,
’
said
Traddles
.
‘
It
was
all
there
was
,
’
returned
my
aunt
.
‘
I
sold
three
,
myself
.
One
,
I
paid
for
your
articles
,
Trot
,
my
dear
;
and
the
other
two
I
have
by
me
.
When
I
lost
the
rest
,
I
thought
it
wise
to
say
nothing
about
that
sum
,
but
to
keep
it
secretly
for
a
rainy
day
.
I
wanted
to
see
how
you
would
come
out
of
the
trial
,
Trot
;
and
you
came
out
nobly
—
persevering
,
self
-
reliant
,
self
-
denying
!
So
did
Dick
.
Don
’
t
speak
to
me
,
for
I
find
my
nerves
a
little
shaken
!
’
Nobody
would
have
thought
so
,
to
see
her
sitting
upright
,
with
her
arms
folded
;
but
she
had
wonderful
self
-
command
.
‘
Then
I
am
delighted
to
say
,
’
cried
Traddles
,
beaming
with
joy
,
‘
that
we
have
recovered
the
whole
money
!
’
