David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
page 183 of 1352 (13%)
page 183 of 1352 (13%)
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I went up to him, after a moment of confusion, and said: 'I beg
your pardon, sir. I am very sorry for what I did, and I hope you will forgive me.' 'I am glad to hear you are sorry, David,' he replied. The hand he gave me was the hand I had bitten. I could not restrain my eye from resting for an instant on a red spot upon it; but it was not so red as I turned, when I met that sinister expression in his face. 'How do you do, ma'am?' I said to Miss Murdstone. 'Ah, dear me!' sighed Miss Murdstone, giving me the tea-caddy scoop instead of her fingers. 'How long are the holidays?' 'A month, ma'am.' 'Counting from when?' 'From today, ma'am.' 'Oh!' said Miss Murdstone. 'Then here's one day off.' She kept a calendar of the holidays in this way, and every morning checked a day off in exactly the same manner. She did it gloomily until she came to ten, but when she got into two figures she became more hopeful, and, as the time advanced, even jocular. It was on this very first day that I had the misfortune to throw |
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