‘Will you not walk back with Trotwood and me?’
He would have looked to Uriah, I believe, before replying, if that worthy had not anticipated him.
‘I am bespoke myself,’ said Uriah, ‘on business; otherwise I should have been appy to have kept with my friends. But I leave my partner to represent the firm. Miss Agnes, ever yours!
I wish you good-day, Master Copperfield, and leave my umble respects for Miss Betsey Trotwood.’
With those words, he retired, kissing his great hand, and leering at us like a mask.
We sat there, talking about our pleasant old Canterbury days, an hour or two. Mr. Wickfield, left to Agnes, soon became more like his former