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    you eat your in the evening

      you eat your

    ‘Where are the birds?’ asked Miss Betsey

    ‘For no better reason, truly, than because I was thinking,’ he

    ‘Yes, to be sure Yes Trotwood Copperfield,’ said Mr Dick, a

    soldier, or a sailor, I was such a little fellow that it was most likely

    room, being ashamed to show myself at the window lest they

    Mr Peggotty ‘Ask him’

    Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

    constantly treated with peppermint; secondly, that something

    out his wine He took what she gave him, and no more—like a

    compound of flavours I have already mentioned, and perhaps the

    is prettier It ain’t that she don’t work as well as ever, for she does

    David Copperfield

    ‘My late wife loved her second husband, ma’am,’ said Mr

    More solitary than Robinson Crusoe, who had nobody to look at

    struggling between his desire to represent it to me as a matter of

    love with Steerforth; and I am sure, as I sat in the dark, thinking of

    Everyone who knows you, consults with you, and is guided by you,

    ‘Then I tell you what, Steerforth I think I will go down and see

    connected with the Treasury

    pleasure in saying he has been called mad, or I should not have


    deserve to be as happy as you are tonight My hand upon it! Ham,

    upon, I nevertheless did clearly comprehend in my own way, that

    easier The difficulties under which they had laboured all night,

    saw the tender, beautiful regard which Agnes cast upon her

    on sick leave, if I can; on total resignation, if that is not to be

    ‘Since you oblige me to speak more plainly, which I am very


    Copyright you eat your in the evening