‘Dear me!’ he said, ‘it’s past one. The moments slip away so, in the confidence of old times, Master Copperfield, that it’s almost half past one!’
I answered that I had thought it was later. Not that I had really thought so, but because my conversational powers were effectually scattered.
‘Dear me!’ he said, considering. ‘The ouse that I am stopping at — a sort of a private hotel and boarding ouse, Master Copperfield, near the New River ed — will have gone to bed these two hours.’
‘I am sorry,’ I returned, ‘that there is only one bed here, and that I — ’
‘Oh, don’t think of mentioning beds, Master Copperfield!’