‘Oh, you are in low spirits, Mr. Micawber,’ said Traddles.

‘I am, sir,’ interposed Mr. Micawber.

‘I hope,’ said Traddles, ‘it is not because you have conceived a dislike to the law — for I am a lawyer myself, you know.’

Mr. Micawber answered not a word.

‘How is our friend Heep, Mr. Micawber?’ said I, after a silence.

‘My dear Copperfield,’ returned Mr. Micawber, bursting into a state of much excitement, and turning pale, ‘if you ask after my employer as YOUR friend, I am sorry for it; if you ask after him as MY friend, I sardonically smile at it.

In whatever capacity you ask after my employer, I beg, without offence to you, to limit my reply to this — that whatever his state of health may be, his appearance is foxy: