David Copperfield‘Why, my dear Copperfield,’ said the Doctor, ‘you are a
man! How do you do? I am delighted to see you. My dear
Copperfield, how very much you have improved! You are
quite - yes - dear me!’
I hoped he was well, and Mrs. Strong too.
‘Oh dear, yes!’ said the Doctor; ‘Annie’s quite well, and
she’ll be delighted to see you. You were always her favou-
rite. She said so, last night, when I showed her your letter.
And - yes, to be sure - you recollect Mr. Jack Maldon, Cop-
perfield?’
‘Perfectly, sir.’
‘Of course,’ said the Doctor. ‘To be sure. He’s pretty well,
too.’
‘Has he come home, sir?’ I inquired.
‘From India?’ said the Doctor. ‘Yes. Mr. Jack Maldon
couldn’t bear the climate, my dear. Mrs. Markleham - you
have not forgotten Mrs. Markleham?’
Forgotten the Old Soldier! And in that short time!
‘Mrs. Markleham,’ said the Doctor, ‘was quite vexed
about him, poor thing; so we have got him at home again;
and we have bought him a little Patent place, which agrees
with him much better.’ I knew enough of Mr. Jack Maldon
to suspect from this account that it was a place where there
was not much to do, and which was pretty well paid. The
Doctor, walking up and down with his hand on my shoul-
der, and his kind face turned encouragingly to mine, went
on:
‘Now, my dear Copperfield, in reference to this propos-
al of yours. It’s very gratifying and agreeable to me, I am