"When I can run about again, as I used to do, aunt," said Dora, "I shall make Jip race. He is getting quite slow and lazy"—Chap. xlviii.
"And the name of the whole atrocious mass is—Heep!"—Chap. xlix.
Rosa Dartle sprang up from her seat: recoiled, and in recoiling struck at her, with a face of such malignity, so darkened and disfigured by passion, that I had almost thrown myself between them—Chap. l.
"Approach me again, you—you—you Heep of infamy," gasped Mr. Micawber, "and if your head is human, I'll break it. Come on, come on"—Chap. lii.