Good and Bad Angels

           Iwasgoingoutatmydooronthemorningafterthatdeplorabledayofheadache,sickness,andrepentance,withanoddconfusioninmymindrelativetothedateofmydinner-party,asifabodyofTitanshadtakenanenormousleverandpushedthedaybeforeyesterdaysomemonthsback,whenIsawaticket-portercomingupstairs,withaletterinhishand.Hewastakinghistimeabouthiserrand,then;butwhenhesawmeonthetopofthestaircase,lookingathimoverthebanisters,heswungintoatrot,andcameuppantingasifhehadrunhimselfintoastateofexhaustion.

           ‘T.Copperfield,Esquire,’saidtheticket-porter,touchinghishatwithhislittlecane.

           Icouldscarcelylayclaimtothename:IwassodisturbedbytheconvictionthatthelettercamefromAgnes.However,ItoldhimIwasT.Copperfield,Esquire,andhebelievedit,andgavemetheletter,whichhesaidrequiredananswer.Ishuthimoutonthelandingtowaitfortheanswer,andwentintomychambersagain,insuchanervousstatethatIwasfaintolaytheletterdownonmybreakfasttable,andfamiliarizemyselfwiththeoutsideofitalittle,beforeIcouldresolvetobreaktheseal.

           Ifound,whenIdidopenit,thatitwasaverykindnote,containingnoreferencetomyconditionatthetheatre.Allitsaidwas,‘MydearTrotwood.Iamstayingatthehouseofpapa’sagent,Mr.Waterbrook,inElyPlace,Holborn.Willyoucomeandseemetoday,atanytimeyouliketoappoint?Everyoursaffectionately,Agnes.

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Roboto Lora
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