“Now, Copperfield,” said Steerforth, when we were alone, “I should like to hear what you are doing, and where you are going, and all about you. I feel as if you were my property.” Glowing with pleasure to find that he had still this interest in me, I told him how my aunt had proposed the little expedition that I had before me, and whither it tended.

“As you are in no hurry, then,” said Steerforth, “come home with me to Highgate, and stay a day or two. You will be pleased with my mother⁠—she is a little vain and prosy about me, but that you can forgive her⁠—and she will be pleased with you.”

“I should like to be as sure of that, as you are kind enough to say you are,” I answered, smiling.

“Oh!” said Steerforth, “everyone who likes me, has a claim on her that is sure to be acknowledged.”

“Then I think I shall be a favourite,” said I.