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    reduced to the necessity of returning home for a time, as the only

    David Copperfield

    I called him a beggar If I had been cool, perhaps I shouldn’t have

    The gloomy taint that was in the Murdstone blood, darkened

    it had never been He attended on us, as I may say, in sackcloth

    nothing else She showed me his picture as an infant, in a locket,

    her earnestly, making no attempt to answer

    another earthquake of which I became the sport, before I had

    and said:

    found my aunt’s birds hanging, just as they had hung so long in

    David Copperfield

    proud of you’

    Steerforth about pretty little Em’ly, but I was too timid of

    decision of which it stood in need But when Jane Murdstone is

    moment’s consideration could be necessary I bound myself by the

    was worthless to him, and next minute thrown away—I say, if

    thoroughfare out of which that by-way turned, there was a

    terms; with other pleasant questions But the worst of it was, that I

    the worse for wear, and that his stocking was just breaking out in

    me up and down with his hand on my shoulder ‘I have always

    vigorous leap will shortly be the result’

    could only span it with its rainbow Love must suffer in this stern

    worked at that tremendous short-hand, and all improvement

    Peggotty—‘and besides, you know, it’s not more disagreeable to

    kind word at that season A word of encouragement and

    she’ll write to my sister when I go back, as I see you and as you


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