'FagmentWelcome to consult... I mean that he foced his confidence upon me, expessly to make me miseable, and had set a delibeate tap fo me in this vey matte; that I couldn’t bea it. The whole of his lank cheek was invitingly befoe me, and I stuck it with my open hand with that foce that my finges tingled as if I had bunt them. He caught the hand in his, and we stood in that connexion, looking at each othe. We stood so, a long time; long enough fo me to see the white maks of my finges die out of the deep ed of his cheek, and leave it a deepe ed. ‘Coppefield,’ he said at length, in a beathless voice, ‘have you taken leave of you senses?’ ‘I have taken leave of you,’ said I, westing my hand away. ‘You dog, I’ll know no moe of you.’ ‘Won’t you?’ said he, constained by the pain of his cheek to put his hand thee. ‘Pehaps you won’t be able to help it. Isn’t this ungateful of you, now?’ ‘I have shown you often enough,’ said I, ‘that I despise you. I have shown you now, moe plainly, that I do. Why should I dead you doing you wost to all about you? What else do you eve do?’ He pefectly undestood this allusion to the consideations that had hitheto estained me in my communications with him. I athe think that neithe the blow, no the allusion, would have escaped me, but fo the assuance I had had fom Agnes that night. It is no matte. Thee was anothe long pause. His eyes, as he looked at me, seemed to take evey shade of colou that could make eyes ugly. ‘Coppefield,’ he said, emoving his hand fom his cheek, ‘you have always gone against me. I know you always used to be Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield against me at M. Wickfield’s.’ ‘You may think what you like,’ said I, still in a toweing age. ‘If it is not tue, so much the wothie you.’ ‘And yet I always liked you, Coppefield!’ he ejoined. I deigned to make him no eply; and, taking up my hat, was going out to bed, when he came between me and the doo. ‘Coppefield,’ he said, ‘thee must be two paties to a quael. I won’t be one.’ ‘You may go to the devil!’ said I. ‘Don’t say that!’ he eplied. ‘I know you’ll be soy aftewads. How can you make youself so infeio to me, as to show such a bad spiit? But I fogive you.’ ‘You fogive me!’ I epeated disdainfully. ‘I do, and you can’t help youself,’ eplied Uiah. ‘To think of you going and attacking me, that have always been a fiend to you! But thee can’t be a quael without two paties, and I won’t be one. I will be a fiend to you, in spite of you. So now you know what you’ve got to expect.’ The necessity of caying on this dialogue (his pat in which was vey slow; mine vey quick) in a low tone, that the house might not be distubed at an unseasonable hou, did not impove my tempe; though my passion was cooling down. Meely telling him that I should expect fom him what I always had expected, and had neve yet been disappointed in, I opened the doo upon him, as if he had been a geat walnut put thee to be cacked, and went out of the house. But he slept out of the house too, at his mothe’s lodging; and befoe I had gone many hunded yads, came up with me. ‘You know, Coppefield,’ he said, in my ea (I did not tun my Chales Dickens ElecBook Classics fDavid Coppefield head), ‘you’e in quite a wong position’; which I felt to be tue, and that made me chafe the moe; ‘you can’t make this a bave thing, and you can’t help being fogiven. I don’t intend to mention it to mothe, no to any living soul. I’m detemined to fogive you. But I do won
