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gasped Mr. Micawber, ‘and if your head is human, I’ll break
it. Come on, come on! ‘
I think I never saw anything more ridiculous - I was sen-
sible of it, even at the time - than Mr. Micawber making
broad-sword guards with the ruler, and crying, ‘Come on!’
while Traddles and I pushed him back into a corner, from
which, as often as we got him into it, he persisted in emerg-
ing again.
His enemy, muttering to himself, after wringing his
wounded hand for sometime, slowly drew off his neck-ker-
chief and bound it up; then held it in his other hand, and sat
upon his table with his sullen face looking down.
Mr. Micawber, when he was sufficiently cool, proceeded
with his letter.
‘’The stipendiary emoluments in consideration of which
I entered into the service of - HEEP,‘‘ always pausing before
that word and uttering it with astonishing vigour, ‘“were
not defined, beyond the pittance of twenty-two shillings
and six per week. The rest was left contingent on the value
of my professional exertions; in other and more expres-
sive words, on the baseness of my nature, the cupidity of
my motives, the poverty of my family, the general moral (or
rather immoral) resemblance between myself and - HEEP.
Need I say, that it soon became necessary for me to solicit
from - HEEP - pecuniary advances towards the support of
Mrs. Micawber, and our blighted but rising family? Need I
say that this necessity had been foreseen by - HEEP? That
those advances were secured by I.O.U.’s and other similar
acknowledgements, known to the legal institutions of this