confidential friend, Miss Murdstone!

I don't think I was much astonished. To the best of my judgement,
no capacity of astonishment was left in me. There was nothing worth
mentioning in the material world, but Dora Spenlow, to be astonished
about. I said, 'How do you do, Miss Murdstone? I hope you are well.' She
answered, 'Very well.' I said, 'How is Mr. Murdstone?' She replied, 'My
brother is robust, I am obliged to you.'

Mr. Spenlow, who, I suppose, had been surprised to see us recognize each
other, then put in his word.

'I am glad to find,' he said, 'Copperfield, that you and Miss Murdstone
are already acquainted.'

'Mr. Copperfield and myself,' said Miss Murdstone, with severe
composure, 'are connexions. We were once slightly acquainted. It was in
his childish days. Circumstances have separated us since. I should not
have known him.'

I replied that I should have known her, anywhere. Which was true enough.

'Miss Murdstone has had the goodness,' said Mr. Spenlow to me, 'to
accept the office--if I may so describe it--of my daughter Dora's
confidential friend. My daughter Dora having, unhappily, no mother, Miss
Murdstone is obliging enough to become her companion and protector.'

A passing thought occurred to me that Miss Murdstone, like the pocket
instrument called a life-preserver, was not so much designed for
purposes of protection as of assault. But as I had none but passing
thoughts for any subject save Dora, I glanced at her, directly
afterwards, and was thinking that I saw, in her prettily pettish manner,
that she was not very much inclined to be particularly confidential to
her companion and protector, when a bell rang, which Mr. Spenlow said
was the first dinner-bell, and so carried me off to dress.

The idea of dressing one's self, or doing anything in the way of action,
in that state of love, was a little too ridiculous. I could only sit
down before my fire, biting the key of my carpet-bag, and think of the
captivating, girlish, bright-eyed lovely Dora. What a form she had, what
a face she had, what a graceful, variable, enchanting manner!

The bell rang again so soon that I made a mere scramble of my dressing,
instead of the careful operation I could have wished under the
circumstances, and went downstairs. There was some company. Dora was
talking to an old gentleman with a grey head. Grey as he was--and a
great-grandfather into the bargain, for he said so--I was madly jealous
of him.

What