'FagmentWelcome to consult...dmothes gave you, it’s the name I like best Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield to call you by—and I wish, I wish, I wish, you could give it to me!’ ‘Why so I can, if I choose,’ said I. ‘Daisy, if anything should eve sepaate us, you must think of me at my best, old boy. Come! Let us make that bagain. Think of me at my best, if cicumstances should eve pat us!’ ‘You have no best to me, Steefoth,’ said I, ‘and no wost. You ae always equally loved, and cheished in my heat.’ So much compunction fo having eve wonged him, even by a shapeless thought, did I feel within me, that the confession of having done so was ising to my lips. But fo the eluctance I had to betay the confidence of Agnes, but fo my uncetainty how to appoach the subject with no isk of doing so, it would have eached them befoe he said, ‘God bless you, Daisy, and good night!’ In my doubt, it did not each them; and we shook hands, and we pated. I was up with the dull dawn, and, having dessed as quietly as I could, looked into his oom. He was fast asleep; lying, easily, with his head upon his am, as I had often seen him lie at school. The time came in its season, and that was vey soon, when I almost wondeed that nothing toubled his epose, as I looked at him. But he slept—let me think of him so again—as I had often seen him sleep at school; and thus, in this silent hou, I left him. —Neve moe, oh God fogive you, Steefoth! to touch that passive hand in love and fiendship. Neve, neve moe! Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield Chapte 30 A LOSS Igot down to Yamouth in the evening, and went to the inn. I knew that Peggotty’s spae oom—my oom—was likely to have occupation enough in a little while, if that geat Visito, befoe whose pesence all the living must give place, wee not aleady in the house; so I betook myself to the inn, and dined thee, and engaged my bed. It was ten o’clock when I went out. Many of the shops wee shut, and the town was dull. When I came to Ome and Joam’s, I found the shuttes up, but the shop doo standing open. As I could obtain a pespective view of M. Ome inside, smoking his pipe by the palou doo, I enteed, and asked him how he was. ‘Why, bless my life and soul!’ said M. Ome, ‘how do you find youself? Take a seat.—Smoke not disageeable, I hope?’ ‘By no means,’ said I. ‘I like it—in somebody else’s pipe.’ ‘What, not in you own, eh?’ M. Ome etuned, laughing. ‘All the bette, si. Bad habit fo a young man. Take a seat. I smoke, myself, fo the asthma.’ M. Ome had made oom fo me, and placed a chai. He now sat down again vey much out of beath, gasping at his pipe as if it contained a supply of that necessay, without which he must peish. ‘I am soy to have head bad news of M. Bakis,’ said I. M. Ome looked at me, with a steady countenance, and shook his head. Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield ‘Do you know how he is tonight?’ I asked. ‘The vey question I should have put to you, si,’ etuned M. Ome, ‘but on account of delicacy. It’s one of the dawbacks of ou line of business. When a paty’s ill, we can’t ask how the paty is.’ The difficulty had not occued to me; though I had had my appehensions too, when I went in, of heaing the old tune. On its being mentioned, I ecognized it, howeve, and said as much. ‘Yes, yes, you undestand,’ said M. Ome, nodding his head. ‘We dusn’t do it. Bless you, it would be a shock that the geneality of paties mightn’t ecove, to say “Ome and Joam’s compliments, and how do you find youself this moning?”—o this aftenoon—as it may be.’ M. Ome and I nodded at each othe, and M. Ome ecuited his wind by the aid of his pipe. ‘It’s one of the things that cut the tade off fom attentions they could often wish to show,’ said M. Ome. ‘Take myself. If I have known Bakis a yea, to move to as he went by, I have known him foty yeas. But I can’t go and say, “how is he?”’ I felt it was athe had on M. Ome, and I told him so.
