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Updated: May 31, 2025
As he happened to go out now, and as Wemmick was brisk and talkative, I said to Wemmick that I hardly knew what to make of Mr. Jaggers's manner. "Tell him that, and he'll take it as a compliment," answered Wemmick; "he don't mean that you should know what to make of it. Oh!" for I looked surprised, "it's not personal; it's professional: only professional."
Thus far my sense of sight; while dry rot and wet rot and all the silent rots that rot in neglected roof and cellar, rot of rat and mouse and bug and coaching-stables near at hand besides addressed themselves faintly to my sense of smell, and moaned, "Try Barnard's Mixture." So imperfect was this realization of the first of my great expectations, that I looked in dismay at Mr. Wemmick.
Wemmick with his delightful off-hand premeditated happenings; but other people had them even then. She made no demur, but assented with her innocent eyes full of exquisite sweetness. He helped her in and sat along side of her. He had all kinds of young lover-like thoughts, and really he so seldom had her alone. He wanted to snatch up the hand and kiss it.
From my point of view, he was the wrong twin all the time, and only externally like the Wemmick of Walworth. We took our leave early, and left together. Even when we were groping among Mr.
My left arm, though it presented no bad symptoms, took, in the natural course, so long to heal that I was still unable to get a coat on. My right arm was tolerably restored; disfigured, but fairly serviceable. On a Monday morning, when Herbert and I were at breakfast, I received the following letter from Wemmick by the post. "Walworth. Burn this as soon as read.
In the mean time, Wemmick was diving into his coat-pockets, and getting something out of paper there. "Halloa!" said he. "Here's a couple of pair of gloves! Let's put 'em on!" As the gloves were white kid gloves, and as the post-office was widened to its utmost extent, I now began to have my strong suspicions.
"Never mind what I make it, my friend," observed Mr. Jaggers, with a knowing and contradictory toss of his head. "I want to know what you make it." "Twenty pounds, of course." "Wemmick!" said Mr. Jaggers, opening his office door. "Take Mr. Pip's written order, and pay him twenty pounds."
It was between twelve and one o'clock when I reached the Temple, and the gates were shut. No one was near me when I went in and went home. Herbert had come in, and we held a very serious council by the fire. But there was nothing to be done, saving to communicate to Wemmick what I had that night found out, and to remind him that we waited for his hint.
I was about to excuse myself, as being but a bad companion just then, when Wemmick anticipated me. "I know your engagements," said he, "and I know you are out of sorts, Mr. Pip. But if you could oblige me, I should take it as a kindness. It ain't a long walk, and it's an early one. Couldn't you stretch a point and manage it?"
Whenever he looked at us, we all expressed the greatest interest and amazement, and nodded until he resumed again. As Wemmick and Miss Skiffins sat side by side, and as I sat in a shadowy corner, I observed a slow and gradual elongation of Mr. Wemmick's mouth, powerfully suggestive of his slowly and gradually stealing his arm round Miss Skiffins's waist.
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