'His own way?' returned Mr. Grewgious. 'O dear no! Poor fellow,
you quite mistake him. If he had his own way, he wouldn't be
here.'
'I wonder where he would be!' Edwin thought. But he only thought
it, because Mr. Grewgious came and stood himself with his back to
the other corner of the fire, and his shoulder-blades against the
chimneypiece, and collected his skirts for easy conversation.
'I take it, without having the gift of prophecy, that you have done
me the favour of looking in to mention that you are going down
yonder - where I can tell you, you are expected - and to offer to
execute any little commission from me to my charming ward, and
perhaps to sharpen me up a bit in any proceedings? Eh, Mr. Edwin?'
'I called, sir, before going down, as an act of attention.'
'Of attention!' said Mr. Grewgious. 'Ah! of course, not of
impatience?'
'Impatience, sir?'
Mr. Grewgious had meant to be arch - not that he in the remotest
degree expressed that meaning - and had brought himself into
scarcely supportable proximity with the fire, as if to burn the
fullest effect of his archness into himself, as other subtle
impressions are burnt into hard metals. But his archness suddenly
flying before the composed face and manner of his visitor, and only
the fire remaining, he started and rubbed himself.
'I have lately been down yonder,' said Mr. Grewgious, rearranging
his skirts; 'and that was what I referred to, when I said I could
tell you you are expected.
Pages:
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160