little man and woman used to live, in the old weather-glass), which
pleased Mr. Dick mightily. The glory of lodging over this structure
would have compensated him, I dare say, for many
inconveniences; but, as there were really few to bear, beyond the
compound of flavours I have already mentioned, and perhaps the
want of a little more elbow-room, he was perfectly charmed with
his accommodation. Mrs. Crupp had indignantly assured him that
there wasn’t room to swing a cat there; but, as Mr. Dick justly
observed to me, sitting down on the foot of the bed, nursing his
leg, ‘You know, Trotwood, I don’t want to swing a cat. I never do
swing a cat. Therefore, what does that signify to me!’
I tried to ascertain whether Mr. Dick had any understanding of
the causes of this sudden and great change in my aunt’s affairs.
As I might have expected, he had none at all. The only account he
could give of it was, that my aunt had said to him, the day before
yesterday, ‘Now, Dick, are you really and truly the philosopher I
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
take you for?’ That then he had said, Yes, he hoped so. That then
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