Charles Dickens,
The Mystery of Edwin Drood — Chapter XIV
(1870)
“ As the day closes in, and the city lights begin to spring up before them, he grows depressed. "I wish I were not going to this dinner, Helena." "Dear Neville, is it worth while to care much about it? Think how soon it will be over." "How soon it will be over," he repeats, gloomily. "Yes. But I don't like it." There may be a moment's awkwardness, she cheeringly represents to him, but it can only last a moment. He is quite sure of himself. "I wish I felt as sure of everything else, as I feel of myself," he answers her. ”
