Great Expectations Page #3

Ah, but you see, she doesn't.

Come along, boy.

Your clock's stopped, Miss.

It should say a quarter past three.

Don't loiter, boy!

Come along, boy!

Take your hat off!

This door, boy.

- After you, Miss.

- Don't be silly. I'm not going in.

Come in.

Who is it?

- Pip, ma'am.

- Pip?

Mr. Pumblechook's boy. Come to play.

Come nearer.

Let me look at you.

Come close.

Look at me.

You're not afraid of a woman who has

never seen the sun since you were born?

No.

Do you know what I touch... here?

- Your heart.

- Broken!

I sometimes have sick fancies.

And I have a fancy

I should like to see someone play.

Play.

Play.

Estella, come here.

Your own, one day, my dear.

And you will use it well.

Let me see you play cards

with this boy.

With this boy?

But he is a common laboring boy.

And look at his boots.

Well...

you can break his heart.

What do you play, boy?

- Only beggar my neighbor.

- Beggar him.

- Four for the ace.

- One for a jack.

He calls the knaves "jacks", this boy.

And what coarse hands he has.

You stupid, clumsy, laboring boy!

She says many hard things of you,

but you say nothing of her.

What do you think of her?

I don't like to say.

Tell me... in my ear.

I think she is very proud.

Anything else?

I think she's very pretty.

Anything else?

I think she is very insulting.

Anything else?

I think I should like to go home now.

And never see her again,

though she is so pretty?

I'm not sure

that I wouldn't like to see her again,

but I think I'd like to go home now.

You shall go home soon.

Play the game out.

Wait here, boy.

- Why don't you cry?

- Because I don't want to.

You do. You've been crying

and you're near crying now.

Long after I had gone to bed that

night, I thought of Estella,

and how common she would

consider Joe, a mere blacksmith.

I thought how he and my sister

were sitting in the kitchen,

and how Miss Havisham

and Estella never sat in a kitchen,

but were far above

the level of such common things.

The following week...

You're to come this way today, boy.

Well, I'm sure! What next?

The idea!

Well?

- Well, Miss?

- Am I pretty?

Yes, I think you are very pretty.

Am I insulting?

No, not so much so as you were

last time.

- Not so much so?

- No.

There! Take that,

you coarse little monster.

- What do you think of me now?

- I shan't tell you.

Because you're going to tell upstairs,

is that it?

No, that's not it.

Why don't you cry again,

you little wretch?

I'll never cry for you again.

In there, boy.

Oh!

So the days have worn away, have they?

- Yes, ma'am. Today...

- There, there.

I know nothing of days of the week,

nothing of weeks of the year.

Do you know what that is?

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