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    have been ever since the night when Mr Copperfield first brought

    in him?’

    world of poor relations (so our fellows said) ready to swarm the

    I looked up, and met her sharp bright glance respectfully

    small bedchamber, which smelt like a hackney-coach, and was

    guileless hearts at Peggotty’s marriage as little Em’ly’s and mine I

    her eyes All this time, Mr Wickfield had his glance upon her as

    It would concern the reader little, perhaps, to know how

    Bar had no more tenderness or poetry in it, than the bar of a

    ‘A strange chay and hosses was outside town, this morning, on

    consciousness of reddening, that I supposed little Em’ly was

    Never, never, had I loved Dora so deeply and truly, as I loved

    whatever in fact, I made a little picture, out of it, of my terrible

    David Copperfield

    to buy some bread, or whatever I liked best that was wholesome,

    business, that he should have been happy to have seen me at his

    you think so?’

    ‘Mr Copperfield,’ returned my mother, ‘is dead, and if you dare

    miscellaneous taste of tea, coffee, butter, bacon, cheese, new

    mind I deemed it possible that my aunt, who could know nothing

    I VISIT STEERFORTH AT HIS HOME, AGAIN

    o’clock that evening, which was one of the early office evenings, I

    ‘That’s Davy,’ returned Mr Murdstone

        

    Copyright have been ever since the night when Mr Copperfield first brought