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"How differently we feel!" cried Fanny. "To me, the sound of _Mr._ Bertram is so cold and nothing-meaning, so entirely without warmth or character! It just stands for a gentleman, and that's all. But there is nobleness in the name of Edmund. It is a name of heroism and renown; of kings, princes, and knights; and seems to breathe the spirit of chivalry and warm affections." ¡¡¡¡ "I grant you the name is good in itself,
and _Lord_ Edmund or _Sir_ Edmund sound delightfully; but sink it under the chill, the annihilation of a Mr., and Mr. Edmund is no more than Mr. John or Mr. Thomas. Well, shall we join and disappoint them of half their lecture upon sitting down out of doors at this time of year, by being up before they can begin?" ¡¡¡¡ Edmund met them with particular pleasure. It was the first time of his seeing them together since the beginning of that better acquaintance which he had been

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that knowledge of himself, the _frequency_, at least, of that knowledge which it is impossible he should escape as he is now. A man-- a sensible man like Dr. Grant, cannot be in the habit of teaching others their duty every week, cannot go to church twice every Sunday, and preach such very good sermons in so good a manner as he does, without being the better for it himself. It must make him think; and I have no doubt that he oftener endeavours to restrain himself than he would if he had been anything but a clergyman." ¡¡¡¡
"We cannot prove to the contrary, to be sure; but I wish you a better fate, Miss Price, than to be the wife of a man whose amiableness depends upon his own sermons; for though he may preach himself into a good-humour every Sunday, it will be bad enough to have him quarrelling about green geese from Monday morning till Saturday night."

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¡¡¡¡"French. You don't know him," said the spy, quickly. ¡¡¡¡"French, eh?" repeated Carton, musing, and not appearing to notice him at all, though he echoed his word. "Well; he may be." ¡¡¡¡"Is, I assure you," said the spy; "though it's not important." ¡¡¡¡"Though it's not important," repeated Carton, in the same mechanical way- "though it's not important- No, it's not important. No. Yet I know the face." ¡¡¡¡"I think not. I am sure not. It can't be," said the spy. ¡¡¡¡"It- can't- be," muttered Sydney Carton, retrospectively, and filling his glass
(which fortunately was a small one) again. "Can't- be. Spoke good French. Yet like a foreigner, I thought?" ¡¡¡¡"Provincial," said the spy. ¡¡¡¡"No. Foreign!" cried Carton, striking his open hand on the table, as a light broke clearly on his mind. "Cly! Disguised, but the same man. We had that man before us at the Old Bailey."

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And so," said Mr. Lorry, who could not sufficiently admire the bride, and who had been moving round her to take in every point of her quiet, pretty dress; "and so it was for this, my sweet Lucie, that I brought you across the Channel, such a baby! Lord bless me! How little I thought what I was doing! How lightly I valued the obligation I was conferring on my friend Mr. Charles!" ¡¡¡¡"You didn't mean it," remarked the matter-of-fact Miss Pross, "and therefore how could you know it? Nonsense!" ¡¡¡¡"Really? Well; but don't cry," said the gentle Mr. Lorry. ¡¡¡¡"I am not crying," said Miss Pross; "you are." ¡¡¡¡"I, my Pross?" (By this time,
Mr. Lorry dared to be pleasant with her, on occasion.) You were, just now; I saw you do it, and I don't wonder at it. Such a present of plate as you have made 'em, is enough to bring tears into anybody's eyes. There's not a fork or a spoon in the collection," said Miss Pross, "that I didn't cry over, last night after the box came, till I couldn't see it." ¡¡¡¡"I am highly gratified," said Mr. Lorry, "though, upon my honour, I had no intention of rendering those trifling articles of remembrance invisible to any one. Dear me! This is an occasion that makes a man speculate on all he has lost. Dear, dear, dear! To think that there might have been a Mrs. Lorry, any time these fifty years almost!"

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Jacques," said Defarge; "judiciously show a cat milk, if you wish her to thirst for it. Judiciously show a dog his natural prey, if you wish him to bring it down one day." ¡¡¡¡Nothing more was said, and the mender of roads, being found already dozing on the topmost stair, was advised to lay himself down on the pallet-bed and take some rest. He needed no persuasion, and was soon asleep. ¡¡¡¡Worse quarters than Defarge's wine-shop

, could easily have been found in Paris for a provincial slave of that degree. Saving for a mysterious dread of madame by which he was constantly haunted, his life was very new and agreeable. But, madame sat all day at her counter, so expressly unconscious of him, and so particularly determined not to perceive that his being there had any connection with anything below the surface, that he shook in his wooden shoes whenever his eye lighted on he

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withdrawn himself, but that the wigged gentleman with the papers before him, sitting not far from Mr. Lorry, begged to ask him a few questions. The wigged gentleman sitting opposite, still looking at the ceiling of the court. ¡¡¡¡Had he ever been a spy himself? No, he scorned the base insinuation. What did he live upon? His property. Where was his property? He didn't precisely remember where it was. What was it? No business of anybody's. Had he inherited it? Yes, he had. From whom? Distant relation. Very distant? Rather. Ever been in prison?
Certainly not. Never in a debtors' prison? Didn't see what that had to do with it. Never in a debtors' prison?- Come, once again. Never? Yes. How many times? Two or three times. Not five or six? Perhaps. Of what profession? Gentleman. Ever been kicked? Might have been. Frequently? No. Ever kicked downstairs? Decidedly not; once received a kick on the top of a staircase, and fell down-stairs of his own accord. Kicked on that occasion for cheating at dice? Something to that

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'You are to understan', Mas'r Davy,' said he, 'as we have left the Bush now, being so well to do; and have gone right away round to Port Middlebay Harbour, wheer theer's what we call a town.' ¡¡¡¡'Mr. Micawber was in the Bush near you?' said I. ¡¡¡¡'Bless you, yes,' said Mr. Peggotty, 'and turned to with a will. I never wish to meet a better gen'l'man for turning to with a will. I've seen that theer bald head of his a perspiring in the sun, Mas'r Davy, till I a'most thowt it would have melted away. And now he's a Magistrate.' ¡¡¡¡'A Magistrate, eh?' said I. ¡¡¡¡Mr. Peggotty
from the Port Middlebay Times: ¡¡¡¡ 'The public dinner to our distinguished fellow-colonist and townsman, WILKINS MICAWBER, ESQUIRE, Port Middlebay District Magistrate, came off yesterday in the large room of the Hotel, which was crowded to suffocation. It is estimated that not fewer than forty-seven persons must have been accommodated with dinner at one time, exclusive of the company in the passage and on the stairs. The beauty, fashion, and exclusiveness of Port Middlebay, flocked to do honour

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With flashing eyes, she stamped upon the ground as if she actually did it. ¡¡¡¡'Look here!' she said, striking the scar again, with a relentless hand. 'When he grew into the better understanding of what he had done, he saw it, and repented of it! I could sing to him, and talk to him, and show the ardour that I felt in all he did, and
he loved me. Yes, he did! Many a time, when you were put off with a slight word, he has taken Me to his heart!' ¡¡¡¡She said it with a taunting pride in the midst of her frenzy - for it was little less - yet with an eager remembrance of it, in which the smouldering embers of a gentler feeling kindled for the moment.

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might have gone on in this figurative manner, if Dora's face had not admonished me that she was wondering with all her might whether I was going to propose any new kind of vaccination, or other medical remedy, for this unwholesome state of ours. Therefore I checked myself, and made my meaning plainer. ¡¡¡¡'It is not merely, my pet,' said I, 'that we lose money and comfort, and even temper sometimes, by not learning to be more careful; but that we incur the serious responsibility of spoiling everyone who comes into our service, or has any dealings with us. I begin to be afraid that the fault is not entirely on one side, but that these people all turn out ill because we don't turn out very well ourselves.' ¡¡¡¡'Oh, what an accusation,' exclaimed Dora,
opening her eyes wide; 'to say that you ever saw me take gold watches! Oh!' ¡¡¡¡'My dearest,' I remonstrated, 'don't talk preposterous nonsense! Who has made the least allusion to gold watches?' ¡¡¡¡'You did,' returned Dora. 'You know you did. You said I hadn't turned out well, and compared me to him.' ¡¡¡¡'To whom?' I asked.

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Dora told me, shortly afterwards, that she was going to be a wonderful housekeeper. Accordingly, she polished the tablets, pointed the pencil, bought an immense account-book, carefully stitched up with a needle and thread all the leaves of the Cookery Book which Jip had torn, and made quite a desperate little attempt 'to be good', as she called it. But the figures had the old obstinate propensity - they WOULD NOT add up. When she had entered two or three laborious items in the account-book, Jip would
Her own little right-hand middle finger got steeped to the very bone in ink; and I think that was the only decided result obtained. ¡¡¡¡Sometimes, of an evening, when I was at home and at work - for I wrote a good deal now, and was beginning in a small way to be known as a writer - I would lay down my pen, and watch my child-wife trying to be good. First of all, she would bring out the immense account-book, and lay it down upon the table, with a deep sigh.

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Of course my aunt was immediately made acquainted with the successful issue of the conference, and with all that had been said and done in the course of it. She was happy to see me so happy, and promised to call on Dora's aunts without loss of time. But she took such a long walk up and down our rooms that night, while I was writing to Agnes, that I began to think she meant to walk till morning. ¡¡¡¡My letter to Agnes was a fervent and grateful one, narrating all the good effects that had resulted from my following her advice.
She wrote, by return of post, to me. Her letter was hopeful, earnest, and cheerful. She was always cheerful from that time. ¡¡¡¡I had my hands more full than ever, now. My daily journeys to Highgate considered, Putney was a long way off; and I naturally wanted to go there as often as I could. The proposed tea-drinkings being quite impracticable, I compounded with Miss Lavinia for permission to visit every Saturday afternoon, without detriment to my privileged Sundays. So, the close of every week was a delicious time for me; and I got through the rest of the week by looking forward to it.

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I submitted; and, with a countenance as expressive as I was able to make it of dejected and despairing constancy, came out of the room. Miss Murdstone's heavy eyebrows followed me to the door - I say her eyebrows rather than her eyes, because they were much more important in her face - and she looked so exactly as she used to look, at about that hour of the morning, in our parlour at Blunderstone, that I could have fancied I had been breaking down in my lessons again, and that the dead weight on my mind was that horrible old spelling-book,
with oval woodcuts, shaped, to my youthful fancy, like the glasses out of spectacles. ¡¡¡¡When I got to the office, and, shutting out old Tiffey and the rest of them with my hands, sat at my desk, in my own particular nook, thinking of this earthquake that had taken place so unexpectedly, and in the bitterness of my spirit cursing Jip, I fell into such a state of torment about Dora, that I wonder I did not take up my hat and

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calculated to shine; and the profits, I am told, are e-NOR-MOUS! But if Mr. Micawber cannot get into those firms - which decline to answer his letters, when he offers his services even in an inferior capacity - what is the use of dwelling upon that idea? None. I may have a conviction that Mr. Micawber's manners -' ¡¡¡¡'Hem! Really, Copperfield, that Mr. Micawber's manners peculiarly qualify him for the Banking business. I may argue within myself, that if I had a deposit at a banking-house, the manners of Mr. Micawber, as representing that banking-house, would inspire confidence, and must extend the connexion. But if the various banking-houses refuse to avail themselves of Mr. Micawber's abilities, or receive the offer of them with contumely, what is the use of dwelling upon THAT idea? None. As to originating a banking-business, I may know that there are members

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　常发蓦地回身：“喂，你哭什么？我还没睡你呢！”
　　小红低声地：“常大哥，你千万不要说不喜欢我，不然他们会继续逼我还债，逼我卖身，说不定还会杀了我……”
　　常发已经在地中央站了很久，而甄一然就像是根本没看到他。他一会儿趴在地图上仔细审视着什么，一会儿又打电话……
　　常发终于找到了机会，他发现甄一然的杯子里没水了，忙倒了一杯递上：“甄书记，您喝水吧！”
　　“你刚才去哪儿了？”甄一然也终于开了口。
　　“我……”常发迟疑地道，“随便转转……”
　　“你不是去谈公事了吗？”
　　“就算是吧！”
　　“和谁谈？谁派你去的？”
　　“一个女人！”
　　“你还算老实！”甄一然依旧不动声色，“从什么时候开始，你的脑子
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　“甄书记……”常发委屈地解释，“我不是去睡她，真的是去谈工作！”
　　甄一然摆摆手：“你可千万别和我说又有女人喜欢上你了！”
　　常发一惊：“你怎么知道？”
　　甄一然看了他一眼，又把头埋在文件堆里：“你可不可以告诉我，这世上有没有不喜欢你的女人？”
　　“大概……应该有吧？”常发眨巴着眼睛，“只是我还没遇到！甄书记，你能不能先不要管这事？”
　　甄一然慢慢地将脸扭向了窗外，不知过了多久，才缓缓言道：“吴达子的那个骑兵连是不是不想撤出赤河？”
　　“我查过了，他留下的根本就不是一个连，而是两个连！处理善后事务用得着这么多人吗？”常发疑惑着。
　　“你觉得这里有名堂？”
　　“我不知道，但我能肯定，他绝不会白白的送一个女人给我！”
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