As we were left to look about us while Mr. Spenlow was fetched, I availed myself of the opportunity.The furniture of the room was old-fashioned and dusty;and the green baize on the top of the writing-table had lost all its colour,and was as withered and pale as an old pauper. There were a great many bundles of papers on it,some endorsed as Allegations, and some (to my surprise) as Libels,and some as being in the Consistory Court, and some in the Arches Court,and some in the Prerogative Court, and some in the Admiralty Court,and some in the Delegates’ Court; giving me occasion to wonder much,how many Courts there might be in the gross, and how long it would take to understand them all.Besides these, there were sundry immense manuscript Books of Evidence taken on affidavit,strongly bound, and tied together in massive sets, a set to each cause,as if every cause were a history in ten or twenty volumes. All this looked tolerably expensive,I thought, and gave me an agreeable notion of a proctor’s business.I was casting my eyes with increasing complacency over these and many similar objects,when hasty footsteps were heard in the room outside, and Mr. Spenlow,in a black gown trimmed with white fur, came hurrying in, taking off his hat as he came.
He was a little light-haired gentleman, with undeniable boots,and the stiffest of white cravats and shirt-collars. He was buttoned up, mighty trim and tight,and must have taken a great deal of pains with his whiskers, which were accurately curled.His gold watch-chain was so massive, that a fancy came across me,that he ought to have a sinewy golden arm, to draw it out with,like those which are put up over the goldbeaters’ shops. He was got up with such care,and was so stiff, that he could hardly bend himself; being obliged,when he glanced at some papers on his desk, after sitting down in his chair,to move his whole body, from the bottom of his spine, like Punch.
I had previously been presented by my aunt, and had been courteously received. He now said:
‘And so, Mr. Copperfield, you think of entering into our profession?I casually mentioned to Miss Trotwood, when I had the pleasure of an interview with her the other day,’--with another inclination of his body--Punch again--‘that there was a vacancy here.Miss Trotwood was good enough to mention that she had a nephew who was her peculiar care,and for whom she was seeking to provide genteelly in life. That nephew, I believe,I have now the pleasure of’--Punch again. I bowed my acknowledgements, and said,my aunt had mentioned to me that there was that opening,and that I believed I should like it very much. That I was strongly inclined to like it,and had taken immediately to the proposal. That I could not absolutely pledge myself to like it,until I knew something more about it. That although it was little else than a matter of form,I presumed I should have an opportunity of trying how I liked it,before I bound myself to it irrevocably.
‘Oh surely!surely!’ said Mr. Spenlow. ‘We always, in this house, propose a month--an initiatory month.I should be happy, myself, to propose two months--three--an indefinite period,in fact--but I have a partner. Mr. Jorkins.’
‘And the premium, sir,’ I returned, ‘is a thousand pounds?’
‘And the premium, Stamp included, is a thousand pounds,’ said Mr. Spenlow.‘As I have mentioned to Miss Trotwood, I am actuated by no mercenary considerations;few men are less so, I believe; but Mr. Jorkins has his opinions on these subjects,and I am bound to respect Mr. Jorkins’s opinions. Mr. Jorkins thinks a thousand pounds too little, in short.’
‘I suppose, sir,’ said I, still desiring to spare my aunt, ‘that it is not the custom here,if an articled clerk were particularly useful,and made himself a perfect master of his profession’--I could not help blushing,this looked so like praising myself--‘I suppose it is not the custom,in the later years of his time, to allow him any--’
Mr. Spenlow, by a great effort, just lifted his head far enough out of his cravat to shake it,and answered, anticipating the word ‘salary’:
‘No. I will not say what consideration I might give to that point myself, Mr. Copperfield,if I were unfettered. Mr. Jorkins is immovable.’
I was quite dismayed by the idea of this terrible Jorkins.But I found out afterwards that he was a mild man of a heavy temperament,whose place in the business was to keep himself in the background,and be constantly exhibited by name as the most obdurate and ruthless of men.If a clerk wanted his salary raised, Mr. Jorkins wouldn’t listen to such a proposition.If a client were slow to settle his bill of costs, Mr. Jorkins was resolved to have it paid;and however painful these things might be (and always were) to the feelings of Mr. Spenlow, Mr.Jorkins would have his bond. The heart and hand of the good angel Spenlow would have been always open,but for the restraining demon Jorkins. As I have grown older,I think I have had experience of some other houses doing business on the principle of Spenlow and Jorkins!
It was settled that I should begin my month’s probation as soon as I pleased,and that my aunt need neither remain in town nor return at its expiration,as the articles of agreement, of which I was to be the subject,could easily be sent to her at home for her signature. When we had got so far, Mr.Spenlow offered to take me into Court then and there, and show me what sort of place it was.As I was willing enough to know, we went out with this object, leaving my aunt behind;who would trust herself, she said, in no such place, and who, I think,regarded all Courts of Law as a sort of powder-mills that might blow up at any time.
Mr. Spenlow conducted me through a paved courtyard formed of grave brick houses, which I inferred,from the Doctors’ names upon the doors,to be the official abiding-places of the learned advocates of whom Steerforth had told me;and into a large dull room, not unlike a chapel to my thinking, on the left hand.The upper part of this room was fenced off from the rest; and there,on the two sides of a raised platform of the horse-shoe form,sitting on easy old-fashioned dining-room chairs, were sundry gentlemen in red gowns and grey wigs,whom I found to be the Doctors aforesaid. Blinking over a little desk like a pulpit-desk,in the curve of the horse-shoe, was an old gentleman, whom, if I had seen him in an aviary,I should certainly have taken for an owl, but who, I learned, was the presiding judge.In the space within the horse-shoe, lower than these, that is to say,on about the level of the floor, were sundry other gentlemen, of Mr. Spenlow’s rank,and dressed like him in black gowns with white fur upon them, sitting at a long green table.Their cravats were in general stiff, I thought, and their looks haughty;but in this last respect I presently conceived I had done them an injustice,for when two or three of them had to rise and answer a question of the presiding dignitary,I never saw anything more sheepish. The public, represented by a boy with a comforter,and a shabby-genteel man secretly eating crumbs out of his coat pockets,was warming itself at a stove in the centre of the Court.The languid stillness of the place was only broken by the chirping of this fire and by the voice of one of the Doctors,who was wandering slowly through a perfect library of evidence, and stopping to put up,from time to time, at little roadside inns of argument on the journey. Altogether, I have never,on any occasion, made one at such a cosey, dosey, old-fashioned, time-forgotten,sleepy-headed little family-party in all my life;and I felt it would be quite a soothing opiate to belong to it in any character--except perhaps as a suitor.
Very well satisfied with the dreamy nature of this retreat, I informed Mr.Spenlow that I had seen enough for that time, and we rejoined my aunt;in company with whom I presently departed from the Commons,feeling very young when I went out of Spenlow and Jorkins’s,on account of the clerks poking one another with their pens to point me out.
We arrived at Lincoln’s Inn Fields without any new adventures,except encountering an unlucky donkey in a costermonger’s cart,who suggested painful associations to my aunt. We had another long talk about my plans,when we were safely housed; and as I knew she was anxious to get home, and, between fire, food,and pickpockets, could never be considered at her ease for half-an-hour in London,I urged her not to be uncomfortable on my account, but to leave me to take care of myself.
‘I have not been here a week tomorrow, without considering that too, my dear,’ she returned.‘There is a furnished little set of chambers to be let in the Adelphi, Trot, which ought to suit you to a marvel.’
With this brief introduction, she produced from her pocket an advertisement,carefully cut out of a newspaper, setting forth that in Buckingham Street in the Adelphi there was to be let furnished,with a view of the river, a singularly desirable, and compact set of chambers,forming a genteel residence for a young gentleman, a member of one of the Inns of Court,or otherwise, with immediate possession. Terms moderate, and could be taken for a month only, if required.
‘Why, this is the very thing, aunt!’ said I, flushed with the possible dignity of living in chambers.
‘Then come,’ replied my aunt, immediately resuming the bonnet she had a minute before laid aside. ‘We’ll go and look at ‘em.’
Away we went. The advertisement directed us to apply to Mrs. Crupp on the premises,and we rung the area bell, which we supposed to communicate with Mrs. Crupp.It was not until we had rung three or four times that we could prevail on Mrs.Crupp to communicate with us, but at last she appeared,being a stout lady with a flounce of flannel petticoat below a nankeen gown.
‘Let us see these chambers of yours, if you please, ma’am,’ said my aunt.
‘For this gentleman?’ said Mrs. Crupp, feeling in her pocket for her keys.
‘Yes, for my nephew,’ said my aunt.
‘And a sweet set they is for sich!’ said Mrs. Crupp.
So we went upstairs.
They were on the top of the house--a great point with my aunt,being near the fire-escape--and consisted of a little half-blind entry where you could see hardly anything,a little stone-blind pantry where you could see nothing at all, a sitting-room, and a bedroom.The furniture was rather faded, but quite good enough for me; and, sure enough, the river was outside the windows.
As I was delighted with the place, my aunt and Mrs.Crupp withdrew into the pantry to discuss the terms, while I remained on the sitting-room sofa,hardly daring to think it possible that I could be destined to live in such a noble residence.After a single combat of some duration they returned, and I saw, to my joy, both in Mrs.Crupp’s countenance and in my aunt’s, that the deed was done.
‘Is it the last occupant’s furniture?’ inquired my aunt.
‘Yes, it is, ma’am,’ said Mrs. Crupp.
‘What’s become of him?’ asked my aunt.
Mrs. Crupp was taken with a troublesome cough,in the midst of which she articulated with much difficulty. ‘He was took ill here, ma’am, and--ugh!ugh!ugh!dear me!--and he died!’
‘Hey!What did he die of?’ asked my aunt.
‘Well, ma’am, he died of drink,’ said Mrs. Crupp, in confidence. ‘And smoke.’
‘Smoke?You don’t mean chimneys?’ said my aunt.
‘No, ma’am,’ returned Mrs. Crupp. ‘Cigars and pipes.’
‘That’s not catching, Trot, at any rate,’ remarked my aunt, turning to me.
‘No, indeed,’ said I.
In short, my aunt, seeing how enraptured I was with the premises, took them for a month,with leave to remain for twelve months when that time was out. Mrs. Crupp was to find linen,and to cook; every other necessary was already provided; and Mrs.Crupp expressly intimated that she should always yearn towards me as a son.I was to take possession the day after tomorrow, and Mrs. Crupp said,thank Heaven she had now found summun she could care for!
On our way back, my aunt informed me how she confidently trusted that the life I was now to lead would make me firm and self-reliant,which was all I wanted. She repeated this several times next day,in the intervals of our arranging for the transmission of my clothes and books from Mr.Wickfield’s; relative to which, and to all my late holiday, I wrote a long letter to Agnes,of which my aunt took charge, as she was to leave on the succeeding day.Not to lengthen these particulars, I need only add,that she made a handsome provision for all my possible wants during my month of trial;that Steerforth, to my great disappointment and hers too,did not make his appearance before she went away; that I saw her safely seated in the Dover coach,exulting in the coming discomfiture of the vagrant donkeys, with Janet at her side;and that when the coach was gone, I turned my face to the Adelphi,pondering on the old days when I used to roam about its subterranean arches,and on the happy changes which had brought me to the surface.
CHAPTER 24. MY FIRST DISSIPATION
It was a wonderfully fine thing to have that lofty castle to myself, and to feel,when I shut my outer door, like Robinson Crusoe, when he had got into his fortification,and pulled his ladder up after him. It was a wonderfully fine thing to walk about town with the key of my house in my pocket,and to know that I could ask any fellow to come home,and make quite sure of its being inconvenient to nobody, if it were not so to me.It was a wonderfully fine thing to let myself in and out,and to come and go without a word to anyone, and to ring Mrs. Crupp up, gasping,from the depths of the earth, when I wanted her--and when she was disposed to come. All this,I say, was wonderfully fine; but I must say, too, that there were times when it was very dreary.
It was fine in the morning, particularly in the fine mornings. It looked a very fresh, free life,by daylight: still fresher, and more free, by sunlight. But as the day declined,the life seemed to go down too. I don’t know how it was; it seldom looked well by candle-light.I wanted somebody to talk to, then. I missed Agnes. I found a tremendous blank,in the place of that smiling repository of my confidence. Mrs. Crupp appeared to be a long way off.I thought about my predecessor, who had died of drink and smoke;and I could have wished he had been so good as to live, and not bother me with his decease.
After two days and nights, I felt as if I had lived there for a year,and yet I was not an hour older, but was quite as much tormented by my own youthfulness as ever.
Steerforth not yet appearing, which induced me to apprehend that he must be ill,I left the Commons early on the third day, and walked out to Highgate. Mrs.Steerforth was very glad to see me, and said that he had gone away with one of his Oxford friends to see another who lived near St.Albans, but that she expected him to return tomorrow. I was so fond of him,that I felt quite jealous of his Oxford friends.
As she pressed me to stay to dinner, I remained,and I believe we talked about nothing but him all day.I told her how much the people liked him at Yarmouth, and what a delightful companion he had been.Miss Dartle was full of hints and mysterious questions,but took a great interest in all our proceedings there, and said, ‘Was it really though?’ and so forth, so often, that she got everything out of me she wanted to know.Her appearance was exactly what I have described it, when I first saw her;but the society of the two ladies was so agreeable, and came so natural to me,that I felt myself falling a little in love with her. I could not help thinking,several times in the course of the evening, and particularly when I walked home at night,what delightful company she would be in Buckingham Street.
I was taking my coffee and roll in the morning,before going to the Commons--and I may observe in this place that it is surprising how much coffee Mrs.Crupp used, and how weak it was, considering--when Steerforth himself walked in, to my unbounded joy.
‘My dear Steerforth,’ cried I, ‘I began to think I should never see you again!’
‘I was carried off, by force of arms,’ said Steerforth, ‘the very next morning after I got home.Why, Daisy, what a rare old bachelor you are here!’
I showed him over the establishment, not omitting the pantry, with no little pride,and he commended it highly. ‘I tell you what, old boy,’ he added,‘I shall make quite a town-house of this place, unless you give me notice to quit.’
This was a delightful hearing. I told him if he waited for that, he would have to wait till doomsday.
‘But you shall have some breakfast!’ said I, with my hand on the bell-rope, ‘and Mrs. Crupp shall make you some fresh coffee,and I’ll toast you some bacon in a bachelor’s Dutch-oven, that I have got here.’
‘No, no!’ said Steerforth. ‘Don’t ring!I can’t!I am going to breakfast with one of these fellows who is at the Piazza Hotel, in Covent Garden.’
‘But you’ll come back to dinner?’ said I.
‘I can’t, upon my life. There’s nothing I should like better,but I must remain with these two fellows. We are all three off together tomorrow morning.’
‘Then bring them here to dinner,’ I returned. ‘Do you think they would come?’
‘Oh!they would come fast enough,’ said Steerforth; ‘but we should inconvenience you.You had better come and dine with us somewhere.’
I would not by any means consent to this,for it occurred to me that I really ought to have a little house-warming,and that there never could be a better opportunity.I had a new pride in my rooms after his approval of them,and burned with a desire to develop their utmost resources.I therefore made him promise positively in the names of his two friends,and we appointed six o’clock as the dinner-hour.
When he was gone, I rang for Mrs. Crupp, and acquainted her with my desperate design. Mrs.Crupp said, in the first place, of course it was well known she couldn’t be expected to wait,but she knew a handy young man, who she thought could be prevailed upon to do it,and whose terms would be five shillings, and what I pleased. I said, certainly we would have him.Next Mrs. Crupp said it was clear she couldn’t be in two places at once (which I felt to be reasonable),and that ‘a young gal’ stationed in the pantry with a bedroom candle,there never to desist from washing plates, would be indispensable. I said,what would be the expense of this young female?and Mrs. Crupp said she supposed eighteenpence would neither make me nor break me.I said I supposed not; and THAT was settled. Then Mrs. Crupp said, Now about the dinner.
It was a remarkable instance of want of forethought on the part of the ironmonger who had made Mrs.Crupp’s kitchen fireplace, that it was capable of cooking nothing but chops and mashed potatoes.As to a fish-kittle, Mrs. Crupp said, well!would I only come and look at the range?She couldn’t say fairer than that. Would I come and look at it?As I should not have been much the wiser if I HAD looked at it, I declined, and said,‘Never mind fish.’ But Mrs. Crupp said, Don’t say that; oysters was in, why not them?So THAT was settled. Mrs. Crupp then said what she would recommend would be this.A pair of hot roast fowls--from the pastry-cook’s; a dish of stewed beef,with vegetables--from the pastry-cook’s; two little corner things,as a raised pie and a dish of kidneys--from the pastrycook’s; a tart,and (if I liked) a shape of jelly--from the pastrycook’s. This, Mrs. Crupp said,would leave her at full liberty to concentrate her mind on the potatoes,and to serve up the cheese and celery as she could wish to see it done.
I acted on Mrs. Crupp’s opinion, and gave the order at the pastry-cook’s myself.Walking along the Strand, afterwards, and observing a hard mottled substance in the window of a ham and beef shop,which resembled marble, but was labelled ‘Mock Turtle’, I went in and bought a slab of it,which I have since seen reason to believe would have sufficed for fifteen people. This preparation,Mrs. Crupp, after some difficulty, consented to warm up; and it shrunk so much in a liquid state,that we found it what Steerforth called ‘rather a tight fit’ for four.
These preparations happily completed, I bought a little dessert in Covent Garden Market,and gave a rather extensive order at a retail wine-merchant’s in that vicinity.When I came home in the afternoon, and saw the bottles drawn up in a square on the pantry floor,they looked so numerous (though there were two missing, which made Mrs. Crupp very uncomfortable),that I was absolutely frightened at them.
One of Steerforth’s friends was named Grainger, and the other Markham.They were both very gay and lively fellows; Grainger, something older than Steerforth; Markham,youthful-looking, and I should say not more than twenty.I observed that the latter always spoke of himself indefinitely, as ‘a man’,and seldom or never in the first person singular.
‘A man might get on very well here, Mr. Copperfield,’ said Markham--meaning himself.
‘It’s not a bad situation,’ said I, ‘and the rooms are really commodious.’
‘I hope you have both brought appetites with you?’ said Steerforth.
‘Upon my honour,’ returned Markham, ‘town seems to sharpen a man’s appetite.A man is hungry all day long. A man is perpetually eating.’
Being a little embarrassed at first, and feeling much too young to preside,I made Steerforth take the head of the table when dinner was announced,and seated myself opposite to him. Everything was very good; we did not spare the wine;and he exerted himself so brilliantly to make the thing pass off well,that there was no pause in our festivity.I was not quite such good company during dinner as I could have wished to be,for my chair was opposite the door, and my attention was distracted by observing that the handy young man went out of the room very often,and that his shadow always presented itself, immediately afterwards, on the wall of the entry,with a bottle at its mouth. The ‘young gal’ likewise occasioned me some uneasiness:not so much by neglecting to wash the plates, as by breaking them.For being of an inquisitive disposition,and unable to confine herself (as her positive instructions were) to the pantry,she was constantly peering in at us, and constantly imagining herself detected; in which belief,she several times retired upon the plates (with which she had carefully paved the floor), and did a great deal of destruction.
These, however, were small drawbacks, and easily forgotten when the cloth was cleared,and the dessert put on the table; at which period of the entertainment the handy young man was discovered to be speechless.Giving him private directions to seek the society of Mrs. Crupp,and to remove the ‘young gal’ to the basement also, I abandoned myself to enjoyment.
I began, by being singularly cheerful and light-hearted;all sorts of half-forgotten things to talk about, came rushing into my mind,and made me hold forth in a most unwonted manner. I laughed heartily at my own jokes,and everybody else’s; called Steerforth to order for not passing the wine;made several engagements to go to Oxford;announced that I meant to have a dinner-party exactly like that, once a week, until further notice;and madly took so much snuff out of Grainger’s box, that I was obliged to go into the pantry,and have a private fit of sneezing ten minutes long.
I went on, by passing the wine faster and faster yet,and continually starting up with a corkscrew to open more wine, long before any was needed.I proposed Steerforth’s health. I said he was my dearest friend, the protector of my boyhood,and the companion of my prime. I said I was delighted to propose his health.I said I owed him more obligations than I could ever repay,and held him in a higher admiration than I could ever express. I finished by saying, ‘I’ll give you Steerforth!God bless him!Hurrah!’ We gave him three times three, and another, and a good one to finish with.I broke my glass in going round the table to shake hands with him, and I said (in two words)
‘Steerforth--you’retheguidingstarofmyexistence.’
I went on, by finding suddenly that somebody was in the middle of a song. Markham was the singer,and he sang ‘When the heart of a man is depressed with care’. He said, when he had sung it, he would give us ‘Woman!’ I took objection to that, and I couldn’t allow it.I said it was not a respectful way of proposing the toast,and I would never permit that toast to be drunk in my house otherwise than as ‘The Ladies!’ I was very high with him, mainly I think because I saw Steerforth and Grainger laughing at me--or at him--or at both of us.He said a man was not to be dictated to. I said a man was. He said a man was not to be insulted,then. I said he was right there--never under my roof, where the Lares were sacred,and the laws of hospitality paramount. He said it was no derogation from a man’s dignity to confess that I was a devilish good fellow. I instantly proposed his health.
Somebody was smoking. We were all smoking. I was smoking,and trying to suppress a rising tendency to shudder. Steerforth had made a speech about me,in the course of which I had been affected almost to tears. I returned thanks,and hoped the present company would dine with me tomorrow,and the day after--each day at five o’clock,that we might enjoy the pleasures of conversation and society through a long evening.I felt called upon to propose an individual. I would give them my aunt. Miss Betsey Trotwood, the best of her sex!
Somebody was leaning out of my bedroom window,refreshing his forehead against the cool stone of the parapet, and feeling the air upon his face.It was myself. I was addressing myself as ‘Copperfield’, and saying, ‘Why did you try to smoke?You might have known you couldn’t do it.’ Now,somebody was unsteadily contemplating his features in the looking-glass. That was I too.I was very pale in the looking-glass; my eyes had a vacant appearance; and my hair--only my hair, nothing else--looked drunk.
Somebody said to me, ‘Let us go to the theatre, Copperfield!’ There was no bedroom before me, but again the jingling table covered with glasses; the lamp;Grainger on my right hand, Markham on my left, and Steerforth opposite--all sitting in a mist, and a long way off. The theatre?To be sure. The very thing. Come along!But they must excuse me if I saw everybody out first, and turned the lamp off--in case of fire.
Owing to some confusion in the dark, the door was gone. I was feeling for it in the window-curtains,when Steerforth, laughing, took me by the arm and led me out. We went downstairs,one behind another. Near the bottom, somebody fell, and rolled down.Somebody else said it was Copperfield. I was angry at that false report, until,finding myself on my back in the passage, I began to think there might be some foundation for it.
A very foggy night, with great rings round the lamps in the streets!There was an indistinct talk of its being wet. I considered it frosty.Steerforth dusted me under a lamp-post, and put my hat into shape,which somebody produced from somewhere in a most extraordinary manner,for I hadn’t had it on before. Steerforth then said, ‘You are all right, Copperfield, are you not?’ and I told him, ‘Neverberrer.’
A man, sitting in a pigeon-hole-place, looked out of the fog, and took money from somebody,inquiring if I was one of the gentlemen paid for,and appearing rather doubtful (as I remember in the glimpse I had of him) whether to take the money for me or not.Shortly afterwards, we were very high up in a very hot theatre, looking down into a large pit,that seemed to me to smoke; the people with whom it was crammed were so indistinct.There was a great stage, too, looking very clean and smooth after the streets;and there were people upon it, talking about something or other, but not at all intelligibly.There was an abundance of bright lights, and there was music,and there were ladies down in the boxes, and I don’t know what more.The whole building looked to me as if it were learning to swim;it conducted itself in such an unaccountable manner, when I tried to steady it.
On somebody’s motion, we resolved to go downstairs to the dress-boxes, where the ladies were.A gentleman lounging, full dressed, on a sofa, with an opera-glass in his hand,passed before my view, and also my own figure at full length in a glass.Then I was being ushered into one of these boxes, and found myself saying something as I sat down, and people about me crying ‘Silence!’ to somebody, and ladies casting indignant glances at me, and--what!yes!--Agnes, sitting on the seat before me, in the same box, with a lady and gentleman beside her,whom I didn’t know. I see her face now, better than I did then, I dare say,with its indelible look of regret and wonder turned upon me.
‘Agnes!’ I said, thickly, ‘Lorblessmer!Agnes!’
‘Hush!Pray!’ she answered, I could not conceive why. ‘You disturb the company. Look at the stage!’
I tried, on her injunction, to fix it, and to hear something of what was going on there,but quite in vain. I looked at her again by and by, and saw her shrink into her corner,and put her gloved hand to her forehead.
‘Agnes!’ I said. ‘I’mafraidyou’renorwell.’
‘Yes, yes. Do not mind me, Trotwood,’ she returned. ‘Listen!Are you going away soon?’
‘Amigoarawaysoo?’ I repeated.
‘Yes.’
I had a stupid intention of replying that I was going to wait, to hand her downstairs.I suppose I expressed it, somehow; for after she had looked at me attentively for a little while,she appeared to understand, and replied in a low tone:
‘I know you will do as I ask you, if I tell you I am very earnest in it. Go away now, Trotwood,for my sake, and ask your friends to take you home.’