“Miss Wickfield,” said Mr. Micawber, now turning red, “is, as she always is, a pattern, and a bright example. My dear Copperfield, she is the only starry spot in a miserable existence. My respect for that young lady, my admiration of her character, my devotion to her for her love and truth, and goodness!⁠—Take me,” said Mr. Micawber, “down a turning, for, upon my soul, in my present state of mind I am not equal to this!”

We wheeled him off into a narrow street, where he took out his pocket-handkerchief, and stood with his back to a wall. If I looked as gravely at him as Traddles did, he must have found our company by no means inspiriting.