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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 554 pages of information about Great Expectations.

“Stop a minute, though,” he said, wheeling round before we had gone many paces.  “I ought to give you a reason for fighting, too.  There it is!” In a most irritating manner he instantly slapped his hands against one another, daintily flung one of his legs up behind him, pulled my hair, slapped his hands again, dipped his head, and butted it into my stomach.

The bull-like proceeding last mentioned, besides that it was unquestionably to be regarded in the light of a liberty, was particularly disagreeable just after bread and meat.  I therefore hit out at him and was going to hit out again, when he said, “Aha!  Would you?” and began dancing backwards and forwards in a manner quite unparalleled within my limited experience.

“Laws of the game!” said he.  Here, he skipped from his left leg on to his right.  “Regular rules!” Here, he skipped from his right leg on to his left.  “Come to the ground, and go through the preliminaries!” Here, he dodged backwards and forwards, and did all sorts of things while I looked helplessly at him.

I was secretly afraid of him when I saw him so dexterous; but, I felt morally and physically convinced that his light head of hair could have had no business in the pit of my stomach, and that I had a right to consider it irrelevant when so obtruded on my attention.  Therefore, I followed him without a word, to a retired nook of the garden, formed by the junction of two walls and screened by some rubbish.  On his asking me if I was satisfied with the ground, and on my replying Yes, he begged my leave to absent himself for a moment, and quickly returned with a bottle of water and a sponge dipped in vinegar.  “Available for both,” he said, placing these against the wall.  And then fell to pulling off, not only his jacket and waistcoat, but his shirt too, in a manner at once light-hearted, businesslike, and bloodthirsty.

Although he did not look very healthy — having pimples on his face, and a breaking out at his mouth — these dreadful preparations quite appalled me.  I judged him to be about my own age, but he was much taller, and he had a way of spinning himself about that was full of appearance.  For the rest, he was a young gentleman in a grey suit (when not denuded for battle), with his elbows, knees, wrists, and heels, considerably in advance of the rest of him as to development.

My heart failed me when I saw him squaring at me with every demonstration of mechanical nicety, and eyeing my anatomy as if he were minutely choosing his bone.  I never have been so surprised in my life, as I was when I let out the first blow, and saw him lying on his back, looking up at me with a bloody nose and his face exceedingly fore-shortened.

But, he was on his feet directly, and after sponging himself with a great show of dexterity began squaring again.  The second greatest surprise I have ever had in my life was seeing him on his back again, looking up at me out of a black eye.

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