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Updated: June 9, 2025
Dear, tender little Dora, so unconscious of this Dragon's eye! 'Still, resumed Miss Murdstone, 'I found no proof until last night. It appeared to me that Miss Spenlow received too many letters from her friend Miss Mills; but Miss Mills being her friend with her father's full concurrence, another telling blow at Mr. Spenlow, 'it was not for me to interfere.
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.
In the trouble of this state of mind not exclusively my own, I hope, but known to others I went down to Norwood that night; and finding from one of the servants, when I made my inquiries at the door, that Miss Mills was there, got my aunt to direct a letter to her, which I wrote. I deplored the untimely death of Mr. Spenlow, most sincerely, and shed tears in doing so.
Spenlow had evidently been the youngest of the family; that there was a disparity of six or eight years between the two sisters; and that the younger appeared to be the manager of the conference, inasmuch as she had my letter in her hand so familiar as it looked to me, and yet so odd! and was referring to it through an eye-glass.
Proctors, it will be borne in mind, are sketched by Charles Dickens in the opening pages of David Copperfield, for Dora's papa, Mr. Spenlow, was in proctorial partnership with the reputably inexorable Jawkins. When the Probate Act came into force it was a frightful blow to the tribe of Spenlows. Not so much on account of the pecuniary loss.
There was a charming lawn, there were clusters of trees, and there were perspective walks that I could just distinguish in the dark, arched over with trellis-work, on which shrubs and flowers grew in the growing season. 'Here Miss Spenlow walks by herself, I thought. 'Dear me!
Spenlow's profession are accustomed to family differences, and know how complicated and difficult they always are! With that, he paid the money for his licence; and, receiving it neatly folded from Mr. Spenlow, together with a shake of the hand, and a polite wish for his happiness and the lady's, went out of the office.
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.
Perhaps that will be considered an acceptable course of proceeding. I have already said, sir, that I have had my suspicions of Miss Spenlow, in reference to David Copperfield, for some time. I have frequently endeavoured to find decisive corroboration of those suspicions, but without effect.
Taking that part of the Commons which happened to be nearest to us for our man was unmarried by this time, and we were out of Court, and strolling past the Prerogative Office I submitted that I thought the Prerogative Office rather a queerly managed institution. Mr. Spenlow inquired in what respect?
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