“If you should see him first—” said I.
“If you’ll excuse me, sir, I don’t think I shall see him first.”
“In case you do,” said I, “pray say that I am sorry he was not here today, as an old schoolfellow of his was here.”
“Indeed, sir!” and he divided a bow between me and Traddles, with a glance at the latter.
He was moving softly to the door, when, in a forlorn hope of saying something naturally—which I never could, to this man—I said:
“Oh! Littimer!”
“Sir!”
“Did you remain long at Yarmouth, that time?”
“Not particularly so, sir.”
“You saw the boat completed?”
“Yes, sir. I remained behind on purpose to see the boat completed.”
“I know!” He raised his eyes to mine respectfully.
“ Mr. Steerforth has not seen it yet, I suppose?”
“I really can’t say, sir. I think—but I really can’t say, sir. I wish you good night, sir.”
He comprehended everybody present, in the respectful bow with which he followed these words, and disappeared. My visitors seemed to