“True! Upon the fact that Sophy and I had been engaged for a long period, and that Sophy, with the permission of her parents, was more than content to take me⁠—in short,” said Traddles, with his old frank smile, “on our present Britannia-metal footing. Very well. I then proposed to the Reverend Horace⁠—who is a most excellent clergyman, Copperfield, and ought to be a bishop; or at least ought to have enough to live upon, without pinching himself⁠—that if I could turn the corner, say of two hundred and fifty pounds, in one year; and could see my way pretty clearly to that, or something better, next year; and could plainly furnish a little place like this, besides; then, and in that case, Sophy and I should be united. I took the liberty of representing that we had been patient for a good many years; and that the circumstance of Sophy’s being extraordinarily useful at home, ought not to operate with her affectionate parents, against her establishment in life⁠—don’t you see?”

“Certainly it ought not,” said I.