the end of April--the rain whipping the pavement
of that ancient street where the old Slaughters' Coffee-house was once
situated--George Osborne came into the coffee-room, looking very
haggard and pale; although dressed rather smartly in a blue coat and
brass buttons, and a neat buff waistcoat of the fashion of those days.
Here was his friend Captain Dobbin, in blue and brass too, having
abandoned the military frock and French-grey trousers, which were the
usual coverings of his lanky person.

Dobbin had been in the coffee-room for an hour or more. He had tried
all the papers, but could not read them. He had looked at the clock
many scores of times; and at the street, where the rain was pattering
down, and the people as they clinked by in pattens, left long
reflections on the shining stone: he tattooed at the table: he bit his
nails most completely, and nearly to the quick (he was accustomed to
ornament his great big hands in this way): he balanced the tea-spoon
dexterously on the milk jug: upset it, &c., &c.; and in fact showed
those signs of disquietude, and practised those desperate attempts at
amusement, which men are accustomed to employ when very anxious, and
expectant, and perturbed in mind.

Some of his comrades, gentlemen who used the room, joked him about the
splendour of his costume and his agitation of manner. One asked him if
he was going to be married? Dobbin laughed, and said he would send his
acquaintance (Major Wagstaff of the Engineers) a piece of cake when
that event took place. At length Captain Osborne made his appearance,
very smartly dressed, but very pale and agitated as we have said. He
wiped his pale face with a large yellow bandanna pocket-handkerchief
that was prodigiously scented. He shook hands with Dobbin, looked at
the clock, and told John, the waiter, to bring him some curacao. Of
this cordial he swallowed off a couple of glasses with nervous
eagerness. His friend asked with some interest about his health.

"Couldn't get a wink of sleep till daylight, Dob," said he. "Infernal
headache and fever. Got up at nine, and went down to the Hummums for a
bath. I say, Dob, I feel just as I did on the morning I went out with
Rocket at Quebec."

"So do I," William responded. "I was a deuced deal more nervous than
you were that morning. You made a famous breakfast, I remember. Eat
something now."

"You're a good old fellow, Will. I'll drink your health, old boy, and
farewell to--"