“It has no reference to her health, sir,” I replied. “She has met with some large losses. In fact, she has very little left, indeed.”

“You as-tound me, Copperfield!” cried Mr. Spenlow.

I shook my head. “Indeed, sir,” said I, “her affairs are so changed, that I wished to ask you whether it would be possible⁠—at a sacrifice on our part of some portion of the premium, of course,” I put in this, on the spur of the moment, warned by the blank expression of his face⁠—“to cancel my articles?”

What it cost me to make this proposal, nobody knows. It was like asking, as a favour, to be sentenced to transportation from Dora.

“To cancel your articles, Copperfield? Cancel?”