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I Observe

           Hishairandwhiskerswereblackerandthicker,lookedatsonear,thanevenIhadgiventhemcreditforbeing.Asquarenessaboutthelowerpartofhisface,andthedottedindicationofthestrongblackbeardheshavedcloseeveryday,remindedmeofthewax-workthathadtravelledintoourneighbourhoodsomehalf-a-yearbefore.This,hisregulareyebrows,andtherichwhite,andblack,andbrown,ofhiscomplexionconfoundhiscomplexion,andhismemory!mademethinkhim,inspiteofmymisgivings,averyhandsomeman.Ihavenodoubtthatmypoordearmotherthoughthimsotoo.

           Wewenttoanhotelbythesea,wheretwogentlemenweresmokingcigarsinaroombythemselves.Eachofthemwaslyingonatleastfourchairs,andhadalargeroughjacketon.Inacornerwasaheapofcoatsandboat-cloaks,andaflag,allbundleduptogether.

           Theybothrolledontotheirfeetinanuntidysortofmanner,whenwecamein,andsaid,‘Halloa,Murdstone!Wethoughtyouweredead!’

           ‘Notyet,’saidMr.Murdstone.

           ‘Andwho’sthisshaver?’saidoneofthegentlemen,takingholdofme.

           ‘That’sDavy,’returnedMr.Murdstone.

           ‘Davywho?’saidthegentleman.‘Jones?’

           ‘Copperfield,’saidMr.Murdstone.

           ‘What!BewitchingMrs.Copperfield’sencumbrance?’criedthegentleman.‘Theprettylittlewidow?’

           ‘Quinion,’saidMr.Murdstone,‘takecare,ifyouplease.

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Roboto Lora
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