? ? ? ? 'But WERE you ever married, Peggotty?' says I. 'You are a very handsome woman, an't you?'
? ? ? ? I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly; but of another school of beauty, I considered her a perfect example. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlour, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The ground-work of that stool, and Peggotty's complexion appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference.
? ? ? ? 'Me handsome, Davy!' said Peggotty. 'Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?'
? ? ? ? 'I don't know! - You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, may you, Peggotty?'
? ? ? ? 'Certainly not,' says Peggotty, with the promptest decision.
? ? ? ? 'But if you marry a person, and the person dies, why then you may marry another person, mayn't you, Peggotty?'
? ? ? ? 'YOU MAY,' says Peggotty, 'if you choose, my dear. That's a matter of opinion.'
? ? ? ? 'But what is your opinion, Peggotty?' said I.
? ? ? ? I asked her, and looked curiously at her, because she looked so curiously at me.
? ? ? ? 'My opinion is,' said Peggotty, taking her eyes from me, after a little indecision and going on with her work, 'that I never was married myself, Master Davy, and that I don't expect to be.
Pages:
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45