'FagmentWelcome to consult...he eplied, ‘My bothe is obust, I am obliged to you.’ M. Spenlow, who, I suppose, had been supised to see us ecognize each othe, then put in his wod. ‘I am glad to find,’ he said, ‘Coppefield, that you and Miss Mudstone ae aleady acquainted.’ ‘M. Coppefield and myself,’ said Miss Mudstone, with sevee composue, ‘ae connexions. We wee once slightly acquainted. It was in his childish days. Cicumstances have sepaated us since. I should not have known him.’ Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield I eplied that I should have known he, anywhee. Which was tue enough. ‘Miss Mudstone has had the goodness,’ said M. Spenlow to me, ‘to accept the office—if I may so descibe it—of my daughte Doa’s confidential fiend. My daughte Doa having, unhappily, no mothe, Miss Mudstone is obliging enough to become he companion and potecto.’ A passing thought occued to me that Miss Mudstone, like the pocket instument called a life-peseve, was not so much designed fo puposes of potection as of assault. But as I had none but passing thoughts fo any subject save Doa, I glanced at he, diectly aftewads, and was thinking that I saw, in he pettily pettish manne, that she was not vey much inclined to be paticulaly confidential to he companion and potecto, when a bell ang, which M. Spenlow said was the fist dinne-bell, and so caied me off to dess. The idea of dessing one’s self, o doing anything in the way of action, in that state of love, was a little too idiculous. I could only sit down befoe my fie, biting the key of my capet-bag, and think of the captivating, gilish, bight-eyed lovely Doa. What a fom she had, what a face she had, what a gaceful, vaiable, enchanting manne! The bell ang again so soon that I made a mee scamble of my dessing, instead of the caeful opeation I could have wished unde the cicumstances, and went downstais. Thee was some company. Doa was talking to an old gentleman with a gey head. Gey as he was—and a geat-gandfathe into the bagain, fo he said so—I was madly jealous of him. What a state of mind I was in! I was jealous of eveybody. I Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield couldn’t bea the idea of anybody knowing M. Spenlow bette than I did. It was totuing to me to hea them talk of occuences in which I had had no shae. When a most amiable peson, with a highly polished bald head, asked me acoss the dinne table, if that wee the fist occasion of my seeing the gounds, I could have done anything to him that was savage and evengeful. I don’t emembe who was thee, except Doa. I have not the least idea what we had fo dinne, besides Doa. My impession is, that I dined off Doa, entiely, and sent away half-a-dozen plates untouched. I sat next to he. I talked to he. She had the most delightful little voice, the gayest little laugh, the pleasantest and most fascinating little ways, that eve led a lost youth into hopeless slavey. She was athe diminutive altogethe. So much the moe pecious, I thought. When she went out of the oom with Miss Mudstone (no othe ladies wee of the paty), I fell into a eveie, only distubed by the cuel appehension that Miss Mudstone would dispaage me to he. The amiable ceatue with the polished head told me a long stoy, which I think was about gadening. I think I head him say, ‘my gadene
