I understand your allusion, my love.

I regret it, but I can bear it.' 'Micawber!' exclaimed Mrs.Micawber, in tears.

'Have I deserved this! I, who never have deserted you; who never WILL desert you, Micawber!' 'My love,' said Mr.Micawber, much affected, 'you will forgive, and our old and tried friend Copperfield will, I am sure, forgive, the momentary laceration of a wounded spirit, made sensitive by a recent collision with the Minion of Power--in other words, with a ribald Turncock attached to the water-works--and will pity, not condemn, its excesses.' Mr.Micawber then embraced Mrs.Micawber, and pressed my hand; leaving me to infer from this broken allusion that his domestic supply of water had been cut off that afternoon, in consequence of default in the payment of the company's rates.
To divert his thoughts from this melancholy subject, I informed Mr.
Micawber that I relied upon him for a bowl of punch, and led him to the lemons.

His recent despondency, not to say despair, was gone in a moment.

I never saw a man so thoroughly enjoy himself amid the fragrance of lemon-peel and sugar, the odour of burning rum, and the steam of boiling water, as Mr.Micawber did that afternoon.