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He spoke in a low voice that sounded almost strange to Me. 'She must have it in her mind to beg of them, I think,' said I. 'A beggar would be no novelty,' said Steerforth; 'but it is a strange thing that the beggar should take that shape tonight.' 'Why?' I asked. 'For no better reason, truly, than because I was thinking,' he said, after a pause, 'of something like it, when it came by. Where the Devil did it come from, I wonder!' 'From the shadow of this wall, I think,' said I, as we emerged upon a road on which a wall abutted. 'It's gone!' he returned, looking over his shoulder. 'And all ill go with it. Now for our dinner!' But he looked again over his shoulder towards the sea-line glimmering afar off, and yet again. And he wondered about it, in some broken expressions, several times, in the short remainder of our walk; and only seemed to forget it when the light of fire and candle shone upon us, seated warm and merry, at table. Littimer was there, and had his usual effect upon me. When I said to him that I hoped Mrs. Steerforth and Miss Dartle were well, he answered respectfully (and of course respectably), that they were tolerably well, he thanked me, and had sent their compliments. This was all, and yet he seemed to me to say as plainly as a man could say: 'You are very young, sir; you are exceedingly young.' We had almost finished dinner, when taking a step or two towards the table, from the corner where he kept watch upon us, or rather upon me, as I felt, he said to his master: 'I beg your pardon, sir. Miss Mowcher is down here.' 'Who?' cried Steerforth, much astonished. 'Miss Mowcher, sir.' 'Why, what on earth does she do here?' said Steerforth. |