Generally, but not always. Sometimes brighter visions rise before me. When I dress (the occupation of two hours), for a great ball given at the Larkins’s (the anticipation of three weeks), I indulge my fancy with pleasing images. I picture myself taking courage to make a declaration to Miss Larkins. I picture Miss Larkins sinking her head upon my shoulder, and saying, “Oh, Mr. Copperfield, can I believe my ears!” I picture Mr. Larkins waiting on me next morning, and saying, “My dear Copperfield, my daughter has told me all. Youth is no objection. Here are twenty thousand pounds. Be happy!” I picture my aunt relenting, and blessing us; and Mr. Dick and Doctor Strong being present at the marriage ceremony. I am a sensible fellow, I believe⁠—I believe, on looking back, I mean⁠—and modest I am sure; but all this goes on notwithstanding. I repair to the enchanted house, where there are lights, chattering, music, flowers, officers (I am sorry to see), and the eldest Miss Larkins, a blaze of beauty. She is dressed in blue, with blue flowers in her hair⁠—forget-me-nots⁠—as if she