“Thank you for that blessing, Master Copperfield!” he interposed.

“I will tell you what I should, under any other circumstances, as soon have thought of telling to⁠—Jack Ketch.”

“To who, sir?” said Uriah, stretching out his neck, and shading his ear with his hand.

“To the hangman,” I returned. “The most unlikely person I could think of,”⁠—though his own face had suggested the allusion quite as a natural sequence. “I am engaged to another young lady. I hope that contents you.”

“Upon your soul?” said Uriah.

I was about indignantly to give my assertion the confirmation he required, when he caught hold of my hand, and gave it a squeeze.