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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"Martin Chuzzlewit"

It was
in vain to try to do so scornfully, or with his usual insolence. He
required the chair for his support. But he made a struggle for it.
'I know that fellow,' he said, fetching his breath at every word, and
pointing his trembling finger towards Lewsome. 'He's the greatest liar
alive. What's his last tale? Ha, ha! You're rare fellows, too! Why, that
uncle of mine is childish; he's even a greater child than his brother,
my father, was, in his old age; or than Chuffey is. What the devil do
you mean,' he added, looking fiercely at John Westlock and Mark Tapley
(the latter had entered with Lewsome), 'by coming here, and bringing
two idiots and a knave with you to take my house by storm? Hallo, there!
Open the door! Turn these strangers out!'
'I tell you what,' cried Mr Tapley, coming forward, 'if it wasn't
for your name, I'd drag you through the streets of my own accord, and
single-handed I would! Ah, I would! Don't try and look bold at me.
You can't do it! Now go on, sir,' this was to old Martin. 'Bring the
murderin' wagabond upon his knees! If he wants noise, he shall have
enough of it; for as sure as he's a shiverin' from head to foot I'll
raise a uproar at this winder that shall bring half London in.


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