Summary

Portrait of Charles Dickens 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.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Charles Dickens Charles Dickens The Mystery of Edwin Drood — Chapter XIV (1870)

Tope and a crowd of early idlers gather down in Minor Canon Corner, shading their eyes and watching for their appearance up there.
This cluster is suddenly broken and put aside by the hands of Mr. Jasper; all the gazing eyes are brought down to the earth by his loudly enquiring of Mr. Crisparkle, at an open window:
"Where is my nephew?"
"He has not been here. Is he not with you?"
"No. He went down to the river last night, with Mr. Neville, to look at the storm, and has not been back. Call Mr. Neville!"
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Charles Dickens Charles Dickens The Mystery of Edwin Drood — Chapter XIV (1870)

Christmas Eve in Cloisterham. A few strange faces in the streets; a few other faces, half strange and half familiar, once the faces of Cloisterham children, now the faces of men and women who come back from the outer world at long intervals to find the city wonderfully shrunken in size, as if it had not washed by any means well in the meanwhile. To these, the striking of the cathedral clock, and the cawing of the rooks from the cathedral tower, are like voices of their nursery time.
Source: Wikisource

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