Charles Dickens,
Bleak House — Chapter XLV: In Trust
(1852)
“ Dear Richard! He was ever the same to me. Down to—ah, poor poor fellow!—to the end, he never received me but with something of his old merry boyish manner.“Good heaven, my dear little woman,” said he, “how do you come here? Who could have thought of seeing you! Nothing the matter? Ada is well?”“Quite well. Lovelier than ever, Richard!”“Ah!” he said, leaning back in his chair. “My poor cousin! I was writing to you, Esther.”So worn and haggard as he looked, even in the fullness of his handsome youth, leaning back in his chair and crushing the closely written sheet of paper in his hand! ”
