I know I said I wasn’t going to read any more Dickens for the rest of the year, after gulping down Martin Chuzzlewit and Little Dorrit back-to-back this spring, but I am a weak, weak little mortal, as I found when I saw Virgin Megastore had the Wordsworth edition of Nicholas Nickleby on sale for 17 dirhams. And it had notes. And illustrations by Phiz! Still, I was going to leave it there on the shelf, and go have some pious, non-Dickensian coffee with my seventeen dirhams, but I had to open it up at random (you know, to see what I was missing):

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“We keep twenty women constantly employed in the establishment,” said Madame.

“Indeed, m’am!” replied Kate, timidly.

“Yes; and some of ‘em demd handsome, too,” said the master.

“Mantalini!” exclaimed his wife, in an awful voice.

“My senses’ idol!” said Mantalini.

“Do you wish to break my heart?”

“Not for twenty thousand hemispheres populated with – with – with little ballet-dancers,” replied Mantalini in a poetical strain.

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So of course it had to come home with me; I am halfway through, and enjoying it greatly. (Pointless justification: It’s Early Comedic Dickens, not Late Gloomy Dickens.)