“How fast you walk!” said he. “My legs are pretty long, but you’ve given ’em quite a job.”
“Where are you going?” said I.
“I am going with you, Master Copperfield, if you’ll allow me the pleasure of a walk with an old acquaintance.” Saying this, with a jerk of his body, which might have been either propitiatory or derisive, he fell into step beside me.
“Uriah!” said I, as civilly as I could, after a silence.
“Master Copperfield!” said Uriah.
“To tell you the truth (at which you will not be offended), I came out to walk alone, because I have had so much company.”
He looked at me sideways, and said with his hardest grin, “You mean mother.”
“Why yes, I do,” said I.
“Ah! But you know we’re so very ’umble,” he returned. “And having such a knowledge of our own ’umbleness, we must really take care that we’re not pushed to the wall by them as isn’t ’umble. All stratagems are fair in love, sir.”
Raising his great hands until they touched his chin, he rubbed them softly, and softly chuckled; looking as like a malevolent baboon, I thought, as anything human could look.
“You see,” he said, still hugging himself in that unpleasant way, and shaking his head at me, “you’re quite a dangerous rival, Master Copperfield. You always was, you know.”