Out of Context

Our 75th post overall

David Copperfield
Charles Dickens

‘What, not in your own, eh?’ Mr. Omer returned, laughing. ‘All the better, sir. Bad habit for a young man. Take a seat. I smoke, myself, for the asthma.’

Mr. Omer had made room for me, and placed a chair. He now sat down again very much out of breath, gasping at his pipe as if it contained a supply of that necessary, without which he must perish.

‘I am sorry to have heard bad news of Mr. Barkis,’ said I.

Mr. Omer looked at me, with a steady countenance, and shook his head.

‘Do you know how he is tonight?’ I asked.

‘The very question I should have put to you, sir,’ returned Mr. Omer, ‘but on account of delicacy. It’s one of the drawbacks of our line of business. When a party’s ill, we can’t ask how the party is.’

The difficulty had not occurred to me, though I had had my apprehensions too, when I went in, of hearing the old tune. On its being mentioned, I recognized it, however, and said as much.

‘Yes, yes, you understand,’ said Mr. Omer, nodding his head. ‘We dursn’t do it. Bless you, it would be a shock that the generality of parties mightn’t recover, to say “Omer and Joram’s compliements, and how do you find yourself this ?”–or this afternoon–as it may be.’