“you can't do better nor keep quiet, dear boy.

You ain't looked slowly forward to this as I have; you wosn't prepared for this as I wos. But didn't you never think it might be me?”

“O no, no, no,” I returned, “Never, never!”

“Well, you see it wos me, and single-handed. Never a soul in it but my own self and Mr. Jaggers.”

“Was there no one else?” I asked.

“No,” said he, with a glance of surprise: “who else should there be?

And, dear boy, how good looking you have growed! There's bright eyes somewheres — eh? Isn't there bright eyes somewheres, wot you love the thoughts on?”