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Updated: May 2, 2025
Kit Nubbles is a humbler hero, but he is a hero; when he is good he is very good. Even David Copperfield, who confesses to boyish tremors and boyish evasions in his account of his boyhood, acts the strict stiff part of the chivalrous gentleman in all the active and determining scenes of the tale. But Great Expectations may be called, like Vanity Fair, a novel without a hero.
Presently, I began to watch a young man near me whose face was very familiar. Finally, I rose, and with a fast-beating heart said, "Steerforth, won't you speak to me?" He quickly glanced up, but there was no recognition in his face. "My God," he suddenly exclaimed, "It's little Copperfield!" Then ensued a violent shaking of hands, and a volley of questions on both sides.
After it the doctor set up one of his endless chess problems on the end of the table, and Sammy returned to David Copperfield. "Father, you know Anthony Gayley that young carpenter in Torney's shop?" "I do, my dear." "Well, Clown ran away to-day, and he really saved me from a bad smash." A long pause. "Ha!" said the doctor, presently. "Set this down, will you, Sammy? Rook to queen's fourth. Check.
The city of the romancer, the house illumined and warmed, so perfectly tended and isolated, the bottles poured slowly by little Dorrit and Dora Copperfield and Tom Pinch's sister, appeared to him sailing like an ark in a deluge of mire and soot. Idly he wandered through this imaginary London, happy to be sheltered, as he listened to the sinister shrieks of tugs plying up and down the Thames.
Holloa, you sir! This was addressed to the waiter, who had been very attentive to our recognition, at a distance, and now came forward deferentially. 'Where have you put my friend, Mr. Copperfield? said Steerforth. 'Beg your pardon, sir? 'Where does he sleep? What's his number? You know what I mean, said Steerforth. 'Well, sir, said the waiter, with an apologetic air. 'Mr.
Spenlow, as Miss Murdstone brought a parcel of letters out of her reticule, tied round with the dearest bit of blue ribbon, 'those are also from your pen, Mr. Copperfield?
My apprehensions of being disparaged to the object of my engrossing affection were revived when we went into the drawing-room, by the grim and distant aspect of Miss Murdstone. But I was relieved of them in an unexpected manner. 'David Copperfield, said Miss Murdstone, beckoning me aside into a window. 'A word. I confronted Miss Murdstone alone.
Mr. Traddles, I have your permission, I believe, to mention here that we have been in communication together? 'It is undoubtedly the fact, Copperfield, said Traddles, to whom I looked in surprise. 'Mr. Micawber has consulted me in reference to what he has in contemplation; and I have advised him to the best of my judgement. 'Unless I deceive myself, Mr. Traddles, pursued Mr.
Jack Maldon was not at all improved by India, I thought. I was in a state of ferocious virtue, however, as to young men who were not cutting down trees in the forest of difficulty; and my impression must be received with due allowance. 'Mr. Jack! said the Doctor. 'Copperfield! Mr.
Most of this we had done on Friday evening; but artificial light is inclined to militate against the labourer, and at eleven o'clock Berry had sworn twice, shown us which pieces were missing, and related the true history of poor Agatha Glynde, who spent more than a fortnight over 'David Copperfield' before she found out that the pieces had been mixed up with those of Constable's 'Hay Wain. This upset us so much that Jonah said he should try and get a question asked in the House about it, and we decided to send the thing back the next day and demand the return of the money."
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