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2020-08-10 05:58:33  Դձ
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uaƽ̨վַ:a g 9 559 v i p<'Not more dull for me than Agnes, sir. Not dull at all!'I never saw his mouth so wide, or the creases in his cheeks so deep, as when he delivered himself of these sentiments: shaking his head all the time, and writhing modestly.

Between her agitation, and her natural awkwardness in getting out of the cart, Peggotty was making a most extraordinary festoon of herself, but I felt too blank and strange to tell her so. When she had got down, she took me by the hand; led me, wondering, into the kitchen; and shut the door.

uaƽ̨վ廭

Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o'clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously.

'Counting from when?'

'I am sure it is for me, sir,' I said. 'I am so glad to be here.'

uaƽ̨վ ɻ

'Oh! and that's a reason why you want relief and change - excitement and all that?' said she. 'Ah! very true! But isn't it a little - Eh? - for him; I don't mean you?'

'Yes,' said my mother, faintly.

uaƽ̨վйҶ ۻ

'No,' returned the Doctor.

'Oh, no. She never had a sweetheart.'

<'Papa says so, too,' said Agnes, pleased. 'Hark! That's papa now!''I hope there will be nothing wrong about it,' said I. 'I hope not,' said Traddles. 'I should think not, though, because he told me, only the other day, that it was provided for. That was Mr. Micawber's expression, "Provided for."'

'A little,' said Steerforth.

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<'Amigoarawaysoo?' I repeated.The length of those five days I can convey no idea of to any one. They occupy the place of years in my remembrance. The way in which I listened to all the incidents of the house that made themselves audible to me; the ringing of bells, the opening and shutting of doors, the murmuring of voices, the footsteps on the stairs; to any laughing, whistling, or singing, outside, which seemed more dismal than anything else to me in my solitude and disgrace - the uncertain pace of the hours, especially at night, when I would wake thinking it was morning, and find that the family were not yet gone to bed, and that all the length of night had yet to come - the depressed dreams and nightmares I had - the return of day, noon, afternoon, evening, when the boys played in the churchyard, and I watched them from a distance within the room, being ashamed to show myself at the window lest they should know I was a prisoner - the strange sensation of never hearing myself speak - the fleeting intervals of something like cheerfulness, which came with eating and drinking, and went away with it - the setting in of rain one evening, with a fresh smell, and its coming down faster and faster between me and the church, until it and gathering night seemed to quench me in gloom, and fear, and remorse - all this appears to have gone round and round for years instead of days, it is so vividly and strongly stamped on my remembrance. On the last night of my restraint, I was awakened by hearing my own name spoken in a whisper. I started up in bed, and putting out my arms in the dark, said:

'If he had been my brother's own boy,' returned Miss Murdstone, striking in, 'his character, I trust, would have been altogether different.'

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uaƽ̨վйӦ飬ʵж The time having come for her withdrawal for the night, and she having left us, I gave Mr. Wickfield my hand, preparatory to going away myself. But he checked me and said: 'Should you like to stay with us, Trotwood, or to go elsewhere?' ϸ

йĿʼз͹״| ̵2018|ɽҽԺĿʩͻ 人г罨ֻӦ

uaƽ̨վ޾ίӡͷ׾ӼҸȾָУ 'If you should see him first -' said I. ϸ

uaƽ̨վڵŵͣҵ31| ̵2018|人"ҽԺ"ʵ!""
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