“Find a voice, David. What about that letter you were speaking of at breakfast?”

“Oh!” said I, taking it out of my pocket. “It’s from my aunt.”

“And what does she say, requiring consideration?”

“Why, she reminds me, Steerforth,” said I, “that I came out on this expedition to look about me, and to think a little.”

“Which, of course, you have done?”

“Indeed I can’t say I have, particularly. To tell you the truth, I am afraid I have forgotten it.”