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Chapter 8

           "

           "Pip?"

           "Mr.Pumblechook’sboy,ma’am.Cometoplay."

           "Comenearer;letmelookatyou.Comeclose."

           ItwaswhenIstoodbeforeher,avoidinghereyes,thatItooknoteofthesurroundingobjectsindetail,andsawthatherwatchhadstoppedattwentyminutestonine,andthataclockintheroomhadstoppedattwentyminutestonine.

           "Lookatme,"saidMissHavisham."Youarenotafraidofawomanwhohasneverseenthesunsinceyouwereborn?"

           IregrettostatethatIwasnotafraidoftellingtheenormousliecomprehendedintheanswer"No."

           "DoyouknowwhatItouchhere?"shesaid,layingherhands,oneupontheother,onherleftside.

           "Yes,ma’am."(Itmademethinkoftheyoungman.)

           "WhatdoItouch?"

           "Yourheart."

           "Broken!"

           Sheutteredthewordwithaneagerlook,andwithstrongemphasis,andwithaweirdsmilethathadakindofboastinit.Afterwardsshekeptherhandsthereforalittlewhile,andslowlytookthemawayasiftheywereheavy.

           "Iamtired,"saidMissHavisham."Iwantdiversion,andIhavedonewithmenandwomen.Play."

           Ithinkitwillbeconcededbymymostdisputatiousreader,thatshecouldhardlyhavedirectedanunfortunateboytodoanythinginthewideworldmoredifficulttobedoneunderthecircumstances.

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