picture of the last supper

He drew his hand across his face, and with a half-suppressed sigh looked up from the fire. ¡¡¡¡'Is Martha with you yet?' I asked. ¡¡¡¡'Martha,' he replied, 'got married, Mas'r Davy, in the second year. A young man, a farm-labourer, as come by us on his way to market with his mas'r's drays - a journey of over five hundred mile, theer and back - made offers fur to take her fur his wife (wives is very scarce theer), and then to set up fur their two selves in the Bush. She spoke to me fur to tell him her trew story. I did.
They was married, and they live fower hundred mile away from any voices but their own and the singing birds.' ¡¡¡¡'Mrs. Gummidge?' I suggested. ¡¡¡¡It was a pleasant key to touch, for Mr. Peggotty suddenly burst into a roar of laughter, and rubbed his hands up and down his legs, as he had been accustomed to do when he enjoyed himself in the long-shipwrecked boat.