Great Expectations

Mr. Jaggers had seen me with Estella, and was not likely to have missed

the sentiments I had been at no pains to conceal. He nodded when I said

the subject was painful to me, clapped me on the back, put round the

wine again, and went on with his dinner.

Only twice more did the housekeeper reappear, and then her stay in the

room was very short, and Mr. Jaggers was sharp with her. But her hands

were Estella's hands, and her eyes were Estella's eyes, and if she had

reappeared a hundred times I could have been neither more sure nor less

sure that my conviction was the truth.

It was a dull evening, for Wemmick drew his wine, when it came round,

quite as a matter of business,--just as he might have drawn his salary

when that came round,--and with his eyes on his chief, sat in a state of

perpetual readiness for cross-examination. As to the quantity of wine,

his post-office was as indifferent and ready as any other post-office

for its quantity of letters. From my point of view, he was the wrong

twin all the time, and only externally like the Wemmick of Walworth.

We took our leave early, and left together. Even when we were groping

among Mr. Jaggers's stock of boots for our hats, I felt that the right

twin was on his way back; and we had not gone half a dozen yards down

Gerrard Street in the Walworth direction, before I found that I was

walking arm in arm with the right twin, and that the wrong twin had

evaporated into the evening air.

"Well!" said Wemmick, "that's over! He's a wonderful man, without his

living likeness; but I feel that I have to screw myself up when I dine

with him,--and I dine more comfortably unscrewed."

I felt that this was a good statement of the case, and told him so.

"Wouldn't say it to anybody but yourself," he answered. "I know that

what is said between you and me goes no further."

I asked him if he had ever seen Miss Havisham's adopted daughter, Mrs.

Bentley Drummle. He said no. To avoid being too abrupt, I then spoke

of the Aged and of Miss Skiffins. He looked rather sly when I mentioned

Miss Skiffins, and stopped in the street to blow his nose, with a roll

of the head, and a flourish not quite free from latent boastfulness.

"Wemmick," said I, "do you remember telling me, before I first went to

Mr. Jaggers's private house, to notice that housekeeper?"