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| 1 | When the chambermaid tapped at my door at eight o'clock, and
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| 2 | informed me that my shaving-water was outside, I felt severely the
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| 3 | having no occasion for it, and blushed in my bed. The suspicion
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| 4 | that she laughed too, when she said it, preyed upon my mind all the
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| 5 | time I was dressing; and gave me, I was conscious, a sneaking and
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| 6 | guilty air when I passed her on the staircase, as I was going down
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| 7 | to breakfast. I was so sensitively aware, indeed, of being younger
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| 8 | than I could have wished, that for some time I could not make up my
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| 9 | mind to pass her at all, under the ignoble circumstances of the
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| 10 | case; but, hearing her there with a broom, stood peeping out of
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| 11 | window at King Charles on horseback, surrounded by a maze of
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| 12 | hackney-coaches, and looking anything but regal in a drizzling rain
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| 13 | and a dark-brown fog, until I was admonished by the waiter that the
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| 14 | gentleman was waiting for me.
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| 15 | It was not in the coffee-room that I found Steerforth expecting me,
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| 16 | but in a snug private apartment, red-curtained and Turkey-carpeted,
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| 17 | where the fire burnt bright, and a fine hot breakfast was set forth
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| 18 | on a table covered with a clean cloth; and a cheerful miniature of
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| 19 | the room, the fire, the breakfast, Steerforth, and all, was shining
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| 20 | in the little round mirror over the sideboard. I was rather
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| 21 | bashful at first, Steerforth being so self-possessed, and elegant,
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| 22 | and superior to me in all respects (age included); but his easy
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| 23 | patronage soon put that to rights, and made me quite at home. I
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| 24 | could not enough admire the change he had wrought in the Golden
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| 25 | Cross; or compare the dull forlorn state I had held yesterday, with
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| 26 | this morning's comfort and this morning's entertainment. As to the
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| 27 | waiter's familiarity, it was quenched as if it had never been. He
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| 28 | attended on us, as I may say, in sackcloth and ashes.
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| 29 | 'Now, Copperfield,' said Steerforth, when we were alone, 'I should
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| 30 | like to hear what you are doing, and where you are going, and all
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| 31 | about you. I feel as if you were my property.'
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| 32 | Glowing with pleasure to find that he had still this interest in
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| 33 | me, I told him how my aunt had proposed the little expedition that
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| 34 | I had before me, and whither it tended.
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| 35 | 'As you are in no hurry, then,' said Steerforth, 'come home with me
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| 36 | to Highgate, and stay a day or two. You will be pleased with my
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| 37 | mother - she is a little vain and prosy about me, but that you can
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| 38 | forgive her - and she will be pleased with you.'
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| 39 | 'I should like to be as sure of that, as you are kind enough to say
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| 40 | you are,' I answered, smiling.
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| 41 | 'Oh!' said Steerforth, 'everyone who likes me, has a claim on her
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| 42 | that is sure to be acknowledged.'
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| 43 | 'Then I think I shall be a favourite,' said I.
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| 44 | 'Good!' said Steerforth. 'Come and prove it. We will go and see
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| 45 | the lions for an hour or two - it's something to have a fresh
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| 46 | fellow like you to show them to, Copperfield - and then we'll
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| 47 | journey out to Highgate by the coach.'
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| 48 | I could hardly believe but that I was in a dream, and that I should
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| 49 | wake presently in number forty-four, to the solitary box in the
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| 50 | coffee-room and the familiar waiter again. After I had written to
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| 51 | my aunt and told her of my fortunate meeting with my admired old
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| 52 | schoolfellow, and my acceptance of his invitation, we went out in
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| 53 | a hackney-chariot, and saw a Panorama and some other sights, and
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| 54 | took a walk through the Museum, where I could not help observing
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| 55 | how much Steerforth knew, on an infinite variety of subjects, and
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| 56 | of how little account he seemed to make his knowledge.
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| 57 | 'You'll take a high degree at college, Steerforth,' said I, 'if you
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| 58 | have not done so already; and they will have good reason to be
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| 59 | proud of you.'
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| 60 | 'I take a degree!' cried Steerforth. 'Not I! my dear Daisy - will
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| 61 | you mind my calling you Daisy?'
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| 62 | 'Not at all!' said I.
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| 63 | 'That's a good fellow! My dear Daisy,' said Steerforth, laughing.
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| 64 | 'I have not the least desire or intention to distinguish myself in
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| 65 | that way. I have done quite sufficient for my purpose. I find
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| 66 | that I am heavy company enough for myself as I am.'
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| 67 | 'But the fame -' I was beginning.
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| 68 | 'You romantic Daisy!' said Steerforth, laughing still more
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| 69 | heartily: 'why should I trouble myself, that a parcel of
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| 70 | heavy-headed fellows may gape and hold up their hands? Let them do
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| 71 | it at some other man. There's fame for him, and he's welcome to
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| 72 | it.'
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| 73 | I was abashed at having made so great a mistake, and was glad to
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| 74 | change the subject. Fortunately it was not difficult to do, for
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| 75 | Steerforth could always pass from one subject to another with a
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| 76 | carelessness and lightness that were his own.
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| 77 | Lunch succeeded to our sight-seeing, and the short winter day wore
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| 78 | away so fast, that it was dusk when the stage-coach stopped with us
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| 79 | at an old brick house at Highgate on the summit of the hill. An
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| 80 | elderly lady, though not very far advanced in years, with a proud
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| 81 | carriage and a handsome face, was in the doorway as we alighted;
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| 82 | and greeting Steerforth as 'My dearest James,' folded him in her
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| 83 | arms. To this lady he presented me as his mother, and she gave me
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| 84 | a stately welcome.
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| 85 | It was a genteel old-fashioned house, very quiet and orderly. From
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| 86 | the windows of my room I saw all London lying in the distance like
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| 87 | a great vapour, with here and there some lights twinkling through
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| 88 | it. I had only time, in dressing, to glance at the solid
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| 89 | furniture, the framed pieces of work (done, I supposed, by
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| 90 | Steerforth's mother when she was a girl), and some pictures in
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| 91 | crayons of ladies with powdered hair and bodices, coming and going
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| 92 | on the walls, as the newly-kindled fire crackled and sputtered,
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| 93 | when I was called to dinner.
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| 94 | There was a second lady in the dining-room, of a slight short
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| 95 | figure, dark, and not agreeable to look at, but with some
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| 96 | appearance of good looks too, who attracted my attention: perhaps
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| 97 | because I had not expected to see her; perhaps because I found
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| 98 | myself sitting opposite to her; perhaps because of something really
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| 99 | remarkable in her. She had black hair and eager black eyes, and
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| 100 | was thin, and had a scar upon her lip. It was an old scar - I
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| 101 | should rather call it seam, for it was not discoloured, and had
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| 102 | healed years ago - which had once cut through her mouth, downward
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| 103 | towards the chin, but was now barely visible across the table,
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| 104 | except above and on her upper lip, the shape of which it had
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| 105 | altered. I concluded in my own mind that she was about thirty
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| 106 | years of age, and that she wished to be married. She was a little
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| 107 | dilapidated - like a house - with having been so long to let; yet
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| 108 | had, as I have said, an appearance of good looks. Her thinness
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| 109 | seemed to be the effect of some wasting fire within her, which
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| 110 | found a vent in her gaunt eyes.
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| 111 | She was introduced as Miss Dartle, and both Steerforth and his
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| 112 | mother called her Rosa. I found that she lived there, and had been
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| 113 | for a long time Mrs. Steerforth's companion. It appeared to me
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| 114 | that she never said anything she wanted to say, outright; but
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| 115 | hinted it, and made a great deal more of it by this practice. For
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| 116 | example, when Mrs. Steerforth observed, more in jest than earnest,
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| 117 | that she feared her son led but a wild life at college, Miss Dartle
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| 118 | put in thus:
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| 119 | 'Oh, really? You know how ignorant I am, and that I only ask for
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| 120 | information, but isn't it always so? I thought that kind of life
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| 121 | was on all hands understood to be - eh?'
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| 122 | 'It is education for a very grave profession, if you mean that,
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| 123 | Rosa,' Mrs. Steerforth answered with some coldness.
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| 124 | 'Oh! Yes! That's very true,' returned Miss Dartle. 'But isn't
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| 125 | it, though? - I want to be put right, if I am wrong - isn't it,
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| 126 | really?'
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| 127 | 'Really what?' said Mrs. Steerforth.
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| 128 | 'Oh! You mean it's not!' returned Miss Dartle. 'Well, I'm very
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| 129 | glad to hear it! Now, I know what to do! That's the advantage of
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| 130 | asking. I shall never allow people to talk before me about
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| 131 | wastefulness and profligacy, and so forth, in connexion with that
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| 132 | life, any more.'
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| 133 | 'And you will be right,' said Mrs. Steerforth. 'My son's tutor is
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| 134 | a conscientious gentleman; and if I had not implicit reliance on my
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| 135 | son, I should have reliance on him.'
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| 136 | 'Should you?' said Miss Dartle. 'Dear me! Conscientious, is he?
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| 137 | Really conscientious, now?'
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| 138 | 'Yes, I am convinced of it,' said Mrs. Steerforth.
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| 139 | 'How very nice!' exclaimed Miss Dartle. 'What a comfort! Really
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| 140 | conscientious? Then he's not - but of course he can't be, if he's
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| 141 | really conscientious. Well, I shall be quite happy in my opinion
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| 142 | of him, from this time. You can't think how it elevates him in my
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| 143 | opinion, to know for certain that he's really conscientious!'
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| 144 | Her own views of every question, and her correction of everything
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| 145 | that was said to which she was opposed, Miss Dartle insinuated in
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| 146 | the same way: sometimes, I could not conceal from myself, with
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| 147 | great power, though in contradiction even of Steerforth. An
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| 148 | instance happened before dinner was done. Mrs. Steerforth speaking
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| 149 | to me about my intention of going down into Suffolk, I said at
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| 150 | hazard how glad I should be, if Steerforth would only go there with
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| 151 | me; and explaining to him that I was going to see my old nurse, and
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| 152 | Mr. Peggotty's family, I reminded him of the boatman whom he had
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| 153 | seen at school.
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| 154 | 'Oh! That bluff fellow!' said Steerforth. 'He had a son with him,
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| 155 | hadn't he?'
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| 156 | 'No. That was his nephew,' I replied; 'whom he adopted, though, as
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| 157 | a son. He has a very pretty little niece too, whom he adopted as
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| 158 | a daughter. In short, his house - or rather his boat, for he lives
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| 159 | in one, on dry land - is full of people who are objects of his
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| 160 | generosity and kindness. You would be delighted to see that
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| 161 | household.'
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| 162 | 'Should I?' said Steerforth. 'Well, I think I should. I must see
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| 163 | what can be done. It would be worth a journey (not to mention the
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| 164 | pleasure of a journey with you, Daisy), to see that sort of people
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| 165 | together, and to make one of 'em.'
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| 166 | My heart leaped with a new hope of pleasure. But it was in
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| 167 | reference to the tone in which he had spoken of 'that sort of
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| 168 | people', that Miss Dartle, whose sparkling eyes had been watchful
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| 169 | of us, now broke in again.
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| 170 | 'Oh, but, really? Do tell me. Are they, though?' she said.
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| 171 | 'Are they what? And are who what?' said Steerforth.
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| 172 | 'That sort of people. - Are they really animals and clods, and
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| 173 | beings of another order? I want to know SO much.'
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| 174 | 'Why, there's a pretty wide separation between them and us,' said
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| 175 | Steerforth, with indifference. 'They are not to be expected to be
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| 176 | as sensitive as we are. Their delicacy is not to be shocked, or
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| 177 | hurt easily. They are wonderfully virtuous, I dare say - some
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| 178 | people contend for that, at least; and I am sure I don't want to
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| 179 | contradict them - but they have not very fine natures, and they may
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| 180 | be thankful that, like their coarse rough skins, they are not
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| 181 | easily wounded.'
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| 182 | 'Really!' said Miss Dartle. 'Well, I don't know, now, when I have
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| 183 | been better pleased than to hear that. It's so consoling! It's
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| 184 | such a delight to know that, when they suffer, they don't feel!
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| 185 | Sometimes I have been quite uneasy for that sort of people; but now
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| 186 | I shall just dismiss the idea of them, altogether. Live and learn.
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| 187 | I had my doubts, I confess, but now they're cleared up. I didn't
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| 188 | know, and now I do know, and that shows the advantage of asking -
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| 189 | don't it?'
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| 190 | I believed that Steerforth had said what he had, in jest, or to
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| 191 | draw Miss Dartle out; and I expected him to say as much when she
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| 192 | was gone, and we two were sitting before the fire. But he merely
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| 193 | asked me what I thought of her.
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| 194 | 'She is very clever, is she not?' I asked.
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| 195 | 'Clever! She brings everything to a grindstone,' said Steerforth,
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| 196 | and sharpens it, as she has sharpened her own face and figure these
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| 197 | years past. She has worn herself away by constant sharpening. She
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| 198 | is all edge.'
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| 199 | 'What a remarkable scar that is upon her lip!' I said.
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| 200 | Steerforth's face fell, and he paused a moment.
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| 201 | 'Why, the fact is,' he returned, 'I did that.'
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| 202 | 'By an unfortunate accident!'
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| 203 | 'No. I was a young boy, and she exasperated me, and I threw a
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| 204 | hammer at her. A promising young angel I must have been!'
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| 205 | I was deeply sorry to have touched on such a painful theme, but
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| 206 | that was useless now.
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| 207 | 'She has borne the mark ever since, as you see,' said Steerforth;
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| 208 | 'and she'll bear it to her grave, if she ever rests in one - though
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| 209 | I can hardly believe she will ever rest anywhere. She was the
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| 210 | motherless child of a sort of cousin of my father's. He died one
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| 211 | day. My mother, who was then a widow, brought her here to be
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| 212 | company to her. She has a couple of thousand pounds of her own,
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| 213 | and saves the interest of it every year, to add to the principal.
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| 214 | There's the history of Miss Rosa Dartle for you.'
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| 215 | 'And I have no doubt she loves you like a brother?' said I.
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| 216 | 'Humph!' retorted Steerforth, looking at the fire. 'Some brothers
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| 217 | are not loved over much; and some love - but help yourself,
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| 218 | Copperfield! We'll drink the daisies of the field, in compliment
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| 219 | to you; and the lilies of the valley that toil not, neither do they
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| 220 | spin, in compliment to me - the more shame for me!' A moody smile
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| 221 | that had overspread his features cleared off as he said this
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| 222 | merrily, and he was his own frank, winning self again.
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| 223 | I could not help glancing at the scar with a painful interest when
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| 224 | we went in to tea. It was not long before I observed that it was
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| 225 | the most susceptible part of her face, and that, when she turned
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| 226 | pale, that mark altered first, and became a dull, lead-coloured
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| 227 | streak, lengthening out to its full extent, like a mark in
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| 228 | invisible ink brought to the fire. There was a little altercation
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| 229 | between her and Steerforth about a cast of the dice at back gammon
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| 230 | - when I thought her, for one moment, in a storm of rage; and then
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| 231 | I saw it start forth like the old writing on the wall.
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| 232 | It was no matter of wonder to me to find Mrs. Steerforth devoted to
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| 233 | her son. She seemed to be able to speak or think about nothing
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| 234 | else. She showed me his picture as an infant, in a locket, with
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| 235 | some of his baby-hair in it; she showed me his picture as he had
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| 236 | been when I first knew him; and she wore at her breast his picture
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| 237 | as he was now. All the letters he had ever written to her, she
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| 238 | kept in a cabinet near her own chair by the fire; and she would
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| 239 | have read me some of them, and I should have been very glad to hear
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| 240 | them too, if he had not interposed, and coaxed her out of the
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| 241 | design.
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| 242 | 'It was at Mr. Creakle's, my son tells me, that you first became
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| 243 | acquainted,' said Mrs. Steerforth, as she and I were talking at one
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| 244 | table, while they played backgammon at another. 'Indeed, I
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| 245 | recollect his speaking, at that time, of a pupil younger than
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| 246 | himself who had taken his fancy there; but your name, as you may
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| 247 | suppose, has not lived in my memory.'
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| 248 | 'He was very generous and noble to me in those days, I assure you,
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| 249 | ma'am,' said I, 'and I stood in need of such a friend. I should
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| 250 | have been quite crushed without him.'
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| 251 | 'He is always generous and noble,' said Mrs. Steerforth, proudly.
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| 252 | I subscribed to this with all my heart, God knows. She knew I did;
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| 253 | for the stateliness of her manner already abated towards me, except
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| 254 | when she spoke in praise of him, and then her air was always lofty.
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| 255 | 'It was not a fit school generally for my son,' said she; 'far from
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| 256 | it; but there were particular circumstances to be considered at the
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| 257 | time, of more importance even than that selection. My son's high
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| 258 | spirit made it desirable that he should be placed with some man who
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| 259 | felt its superiority, and would be content to bow himself before
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| 260 | it; and we found such a man there.'
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| 261 | I knew that, knowing the fellow. And yet I did not despise him the
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| 262 | more for it, but thought it a redeeming quality in him if he could
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| 263 | be allowed any grace for not resisting one so irresistible as
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| 264 | Steerforth.
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| 265 | 'My son's great capacity was tempted on, there, by a feeling of
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| 266 | voluntary emulation and conscious pride,' the fond lady went on to
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| 267 | say. 'He would have risen against all constraint; but he found
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| 268 | himself the monarch of the place, and he haughtily determined to be
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| 269 | worthy of his station. It was like himself.'
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| 270 | I echoed, with all my heart and soul, that it was like himself.
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| 271 | 'So my son took, of his own will, and on no compulsion, to the
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| 272 | course in which he can always, when it is his pleasure, outstrip
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| 273 | every competitor,' she pursued. 'My son informs me, Mr.
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| 274 | Copperfield, that you were quite devoted to him, and that when you
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| 275 | met yesterday you made yourself known to him with tears of joy. I
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| 276 | should be an affected woman if I made any pretence of being
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| 277 | surprised by my son's inspiring such emotions; but I cannot be
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| 278 | indifferent to anyone who is so sensible of his merit, and I am
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| 279 | very glad to see you here, and can assure you that he feels an
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| 280 | unusual friendship for you, and that you may rely on his
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| 281 | protection.'
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| 282 | Miss Dartle played backgammon as eagerly as she did everything
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| 283 | else. If I had seen her, first, at the board, I should have
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| 284 | fancied that her figure had got thin, and her eyes had got large,
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| 285 | over that pursuit, and no other in the world. But I am very much
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| 286 | mistaken if she missed a word of this, or lost a look of mine as I
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| 287 | received it with the utmost pleasure, and honoured by Mrs.
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| 288 | Steerforth's confidence, felt older than I had done since I left
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| 289 | Canterbury.
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| 290 | When the evening was pretty far spent, and a tray of glasses and
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| 291 | decanters came in, Steerforth promised, over the fire, that he
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| 292 | would seriously think of going down into the country with me.
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| 293 | There was no hurry, he said; a week hence would do; and his mother
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| 294 | hospitably said the same. While we were talking, he more than once
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| 295 | called me Daisy; which brought Miss Dartle out again.
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| 296 | 'But really, Mr. Copperfield,' she asked, 'is it a nickname? And
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| 297 | why does he give it you? Is it - eh? - because he thinks you young
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| 298 | and innocent? I am so stupid in these things.'
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| 299 | I coloured in replying that I believed it was.
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| 300 | 'Oh!' said Miss Dartle. 'Now I am glad to know that! I ask for
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| 301 | information, and I am glad to know it. He thinks you young and
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| 302 | innocent; and so you are his friend. Well, that's quite
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| 303 | delightful!'
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| 304 | She went to bed soon after this, and Mrs. Steerforth retired too.
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| 305 | Steerforth and I, after lingering for half-an-hour over the fire,
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| 306 | talking about Traddles and all the rest of them at old Salem House,
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| 307 | went upstairs together. Steerforth's room was next to mine, and I
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| 308 | went in to look at it. It was a picture of comfort, full of
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| 309 | easy-chairs, cushions and footstools, worked by his mother's hand,
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| 310 | and with no sort of thing omitted that could help to render it
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| 311 | complete. Finally, her handsome features looked down on her
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| 312 | darling from a portrait on the wall, as if it were even something
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| 313 | to her that her likeness should watch him while he slept.
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| 314 | I found the fire burning clear enough in my room by this time, and
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| 315 | the curtains drawn before the windows and round the bed, giving it
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| 316 | a very snug appearance. I sat down in a great chair upon the
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| 317 | hearth to meditate on my happiness; and had enjoyed the
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| 318 | contemplation of it for some time, when I found a likeness of Miss
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| 319 | Dartle looking eagerly at me from above the chimney-piece.
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| 320 | It was a startling likeness, and necessarily had a startling look.
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| 321 | The painter hadn't made the scar, but I made it; and there it was,
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| 322 | coming and going; now confined to the upper lip as I had seen it at
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| 323 | dinner, and now showing the whole extent of the wound inflicted by
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| 324 | the hammer, as I had seen it when she was passionate.
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| 325 | I wondered peevishly why they couldn't put her anywhere else
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| 326 | instead of quartering her on me. To get rid of her, I undressed
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| 327 | quickly, extinguished my light, and went to bed. But, as I fell
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| 328 | asleep, I could not forget that she was still there looking, 'Is it
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| 329 | really, though? I want to know'; and when I awoke in the night, I
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| 330 | found that I was uneasily asking all sorts of people in my dreams
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| 331 | whether it really was or not - without knowing what I meant.
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