Chapter 21

           CastingmyeyesonMr.Wemmickaswewentalong,toseewhathewaslikeinthelightofday,Ifoundhimtobeadryman,rathershortinstature,withasquarewoodenface,whoseexpressionseemedtohavebeenimperfectlychippedoutwithadull-edgedchisel.Thereweresomemarksinitthatmighthavebeendimples,ifthematerialhadbeensofterandtheinstrumentfiner,butwhich,asitwas,wereonlydints.Thechiselhadmadethreeorfouroftheseattemptsatembellishmentoverhisnose,buthadgiventhemupwithoutanefforttosmooththemoff.Ijudgedhimtobeabachelorfromthefrayedconditionofhislinen,andheappearedtohavesustainedagoodmanybereavements;forheworeatleastfourmourningrings,besidesabroochrepresentingaladyandaweepingwillowatatombwithanurnonit.Inoticed,too,thatseveralringsandsealshungathiswatch-chain,asifhewerequiteladenwithremembrancesofdepartedfriends.Hehadglitteringeyessmall,keen,andblackandthinwidemottledlips.Hehadhadthem,tothebestofmybelief,fromfortytofiftyyears.

           "SoyouwereneverinLondonbefore?"saidMr.Wemmicktome.

           "No,"saidI.

           "Iwasnewhereonce,"saidMr.Wemmick."Rumtothinkofnow!"

           "Youarewellacquaintedwithitnow?"

           "Why,yes,"saidMr.Wemmick."Iknowthemovesofit."

           "Isitaverywickedplace?"Iasked,moreforthesakeofsayingsomethingthanforinformation.

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