Neither did I like to say, that I hoped he had not been too communicative to Uriah; or to inquire if they had talked much about me.
I was afraid of hurting Mr.Micawber's feelings, or, at all events, Mrs.
Micawber's, she being very sensitive; but I was uncomfortable about it, too, and often thought about it afterwards.
We had a beautiful little dinner.

Quite an elegant dish of fish; the kidney-end of a loin of veal, roasted; fried sausage-meat; a partridge, and a pudding.

There was wine, and there was strong ale; and after dinner Mrs.Micawber made us a bowl of hot punch with her own hands.
Mr.Micawber was uncommonly convivial.

I never saw him such good company.

He made his face shine with the punch, so that it looked as if it had been varnished all over.