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Mr. Micawber’s Gauntlet

           Ineversawamansothoroughlyenjoyhimselfamidthefragranceoflemon-peelandsugar,theodourofburningrum,andthesteamofboilingwater,asMr.Micawberdidthatafternoon.Itwaswonderfultoseehisfaceshiningatusoutofathincloudofthesedelicatefumes,ashestirred,andmixed,andtasted,andlookedasifheweremaking,insteadofpunch,afortuneforhisfamilydowntothelatestposterity.AstoMrs.Micawber,Idon’tknowwhetheritwastheeffectofthecap,orthelavender-water,orthepins,orthefire,orthewax-candles,butshecameoutofmyroom,comparativelyspeaking,lovely.Andthelarkwasnevergayerthanthatexcellentwoman.

           IsupposeIneverventuredtoinquire,butIsupposethatMrs.Crupp,afterfryingthesoles,wastakenill.Becausewebrokedownatthatpoint.Thelegofmuttoncameupveryredwithin,andverypalewithout:besideshavingaforeignsubstanceofagrittynaturesprinkledoverit,asififhadhadafallintotheashesofthatremarkablekitchenfireplace.Butwewerenotinconditiontojudgeofthisfactfromtheappearanceofthegravy,forasmuchasthe‘younggal’haddroppeditalluponthestairswhereitremained,bytheby,inalongtrain,untilitwaswornout.Thepigeon-piewasnotbad,butitwasadelusivepie:thecrustbeinglikeadisappointinghead,phrenologicallyspeaking:fulloflumpsandbumps,withnothingparticularunderneath.

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Roboto Lora
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