'FagmentWelcome to consult... in the chemists’ shops! Thee was nothing fo it, but to tun back and begin all ove again. It was vey had, but I tuned back, though with a heavy heat, and began laboiously and methodically to plod ove the same tedious gound at a snail’s pace; stopping to examine minutely evey speck in the way, on all sides, and making the most despeate effots to know these elusive chaactes by sight wheeve I met them. I was always punctual at the office; at the Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield Docto’s too: and I eally did wok, as the common is, like a cat-hose. One day, when I went to the Commons as usual, I found M. Spenlow in the dooway looking extemely gave, and talking to himself. As he was in the habit of complaining of pains in his head—he had natually a shot thoat, and I do seiously believe he ove-stached himself—I was at fist alamed by the idea that he was not quite ight in that diection; but he soon elieved my uneasiness. Instead of etuning my ‘Good moning’ with his usual affability, he looked at me in a distant, ceemonious manne, and coldly equested me to accompany him to a cetain coffee-house, which, in those days, had a doo opening into the Commons, just within the little achway in St. Paul’s Chuchyad. I complied, in a vey uncomfotable state, and with a wam shooting all ove me, as if my appehensions wee beaking out into buds. When I allowed him to go on a little befoe, on account of the naowness of the way, I obseved that he caied his head with a lofty ai that was paticulaly unpomising; and my mind misgave me that he had found out about my daling Doa. If I had not guessed this, on the way to the coffee-house, I could hadly have failed to know what was the matte when I followed him into an upstais oom, and found Miss Mudstone thee, suppoted by a backgound of sideboad, on which wee seveal inveted tumbles sustaining lemons, and two of those extaodinay boxes, all cones and flutings, fo sticking knives and foks in, which, happily fo mankind, ae now obsolete. Miss Mudstone gave me he chilly finge-nails, and sat seveely igid. M. Spenlow shut the doo, motioned me to a chai, and stood on the heath-ug in font of the fieplace. Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield ‘Have the goodness to show M. Coppefield,’ said M. Spenlow, what you have in you eticule, Miss Mudstone.’ I believe it was the old identical steel-clasped eticule of my childhood, that shut up like a bite. Compessing he lips, in sympathy with the snap, Miss Mudstone opened it—opening he mouth a little at the same time—and poduced my last lette to Doa, teeming with s of devoted affection. ‘I believe that is you witing, M. Coppefield?’ said M. Spenlow. I was vey hot, and the voice I head was vey unlike mine, when I said, ‘It is, si!’ ‘If I am not mistaken,’ said M. Spenlow, as Miss Mudstone bought a pacel of lettes out of he eticule, tied ound with the deaest bit of blue ibbon, ‘those ae also fom you pen, M. Coppefield?’ I took them fom he with a most desolate sensation; and, glancing at such phases at the top, as ‘My eve deaest and own Doa,’ ‘My best beloved angel,’ ‘My blessed one fo eve,’ and the like, blushed deeply, and inclined my head. ‘No, thank you!’ said M. Spenlow, coldly, as I mechanically offeed them back to him. ‘I will not depive you of them. Miss Mudstone, be so good as to poceed!’ That gentle ceatue, afte a moment’s thoughtful suvey of the capet, deliveed heself with much dy unction as follows. ‘I must confess to having entetained my suspicions of Miss Spenlow, in efeence to David Coppefield, fo some time. I obseved Miss Spenlow and David Coppefield, when they fist met; and the impession made upon me then was not ageeable. The depavity of the human heat is such—’
