through these inarticulate sentences, and, whenever he found himself getting near the name of Heep, fought his way on to it, dashed at it in a fainting state, and brought it out with a vehemence little less than marvellous, was frightful; but now, when he sank into a chair, steaming, and looked at us, with every possible colour in his face that had no business there, and an endless procession of lumps following one another in hot haste up his throat, whence they seemed to shoot into his forehead, he had the appearance of being in the last extremity.

I would have gone to his assistance, but he waved me off, and wouldn’t hear a word.

‘No, Copperfield! — No communication — a — until — Miss Wickfield — a — redress from wrongs inflicted by consummate scoundrel — HEEP!’