famous painting

'What's the matter?' I involuntarily asked. ¡¡¡¡'I beg your pardon, sir, I was directed to come in. Is my master not here, sir?' ¡¡¡¡'No.' ¡¡¡¡'Have you not seen him, sir?' ¡¡¡¡'No; don't you come from him?' ¡¡¡¡'Not immediately so, sir.' ¡¡¡¡'Did he tell you you would find him here?' ¡¡¡¡'Not exactly so, sir. But I should think he might be here tomorrow, as he has not been here today.' 'Is he coming up from Oxford?' ¡¡¡¡'I beg, sir,' he returned respectfully, 'that you will be seated, and allow me to do this.' With which he took the fork from my unresisting hand, and bent over the gridiron, as if his whole attention were concentrated on it. We should not have been much discomposed,
I dare say, by the appearance of Steerforth himself, but we became in a moment the meekest of the meek before his respectable serving-man. Mr. Micawber, humming a tune, to show that he was quite at ease, subsided into his chair, with the handle of a hastily concealed fork sticking out of the bosom of his coat, as if he had stabbed himself. Mrs. Micawber put on her brown gloves, and assumed a genteel languor. Traddles ran his greasy hands through his hair, and stood it bolt upright, and stared in confusion on the table-cloth. As for me, I was a mere infant at the head of my own table; and hardly ventured to