bosom as if it had been the companion of my youth and friend of my soul.
I foresaw what was coming, and I felt that this time I really was gone.
“You must taste,” said my sister, addressing the guests with her best grace — “you must taste, to finish with, such a delightful and delicious present of Uncle Pumblechook's!”
Must they! Let them not hope to taste it!
“You must know,” said my sister, rising, “it's a pie; a savory pork pie.”
The company murmured their compliments. Uncle Pumblechook, sensible of having deserved well of his fellow-creatures, said, — quite vivaciously, all things considered,