I parted from him, poor fellow, at the corner of the street, with his great kite at his back, a very monument of human misery—Chap. xxxiv.
"Deuce take the man!" said my aunt sternly, "what's he about! don't be galvanic, sir!"—Chap. xxxv.
"I hardly ever take breakfast, sir," he replied with his head thrown back in an easy chair. "I find it bores me"—Chap. xxxvi.
"You have heard Miss Murdstone," said Mr. Spenlow, turning to me. "I beg to ask Mr. Copperfield, if you have anything to say in reply!"—Chap. xxxviii.