1 Whatever I acquired, I tried to impart to Joe.
2 I tried to collect my thoughts, but I was stunned.
3 I had tried hard at it, but had made nothing of it.
4 Biddy was the wisest of girls, and she tried to reason no more with me.
5 It was abandoned as soon as tried, and he wore his grizzled hair cut short.
6 I had in vain tried everything producible that began with a T, from tar to toast and tub.
7 The other fugitive, who was evidently in extreme horror of his companion, repeated, "He tried to murder me."
8 In the meantime Mr. Pocket grew grayer, and tried oftener to lift himself out of his perplexities by the hair.
9 The pale young gentleman's nose had stained my trousers, and I tried to wash out that evidence of my guilt in the dead of night.
10 He had struck root in Joe's establishment, by reason of my sister's sudden fancy for him, or I should have tried to get him dismissed.
11 He now retorted in a coarse, lumpish way, and Startop tried to turn the discussion aside with some small pleasantry that made us all laugh.
12 Miss Havisham beckoned her to come close, and took up a jewel from the table, and tried its effect upon her fair young bosom and against her pretty brown hair.
13 After a time, I tried in the dark both to get out, and to go back, but I could do neither until some streaks of day strayed in and showed me where to lay my hands.
14 When I had rung at the bell with an unsteady hand, I turned my back upon the gate, while I tried to get my breath and keep the beating of my heart moderately quiet.
15 His eyes looked so awfully hungry too, that when I handed him the file and he laid it down on the grass, it occurred to me he would have tried to eat it, if he had not seen my bundle.
16 Crowding up with these reflections came the reflection that I had seen him with my childish eyes to be a desperately violent man; that I had heard that other convict reiterate that he had tried to murder him; that I had seen him down in the ditch tearing and fighting like a wild beast.
17 He held it between himself and the candle, tasted the port, rolled it in his mouth, swallowed it, looked at his glass again, smelt the port, tried it, drank it, filled again, and cross-examined the glass again, until I was as nervous as if I had known the wine to be telling him something to my disadvantage.
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