Sweet Nothings

Sweet Nothings
The Abduction of Psyche
The British Are Coming
The Broken Pitcher
I found Uriah in possession of a new, plaster-smelling office, built out in the garden; looking extraordinarily mean, in the midst of a quantity of books and papers. He received me in his usual fawning way, and pretended not to have heard of my arrival from Mr. Micawber; a pretence I took the liberty of disbelieving. He accompanied me into Mr. Wickfield's room, which was the shadow of its former self - having been divested of a variety of conveniences, for the accommodation of the new partner - and stood before the fire, warming his back,
oil paintingand shaving his chin with his bony hand, while Mr. Wickfield and I exchanged greetings. ¡¡¡¡'You stay with us, Trotwood, while you remain in Canterbury?' said Mr. Wickfield, not without a glance at Uriah for his approval. ¡¡¡¡'Is there room for me?' said I. ¡¡¡¡'I am sure, Master Copperfield - I should say Mister, but the other comes so natural,' said Uriah, -'I would turn out of your old room with pleasure, if it would be agreeable.'