Avoiding the Blue Boar, I put up at an inn of minor reputation down the town, and ordered some dinner.

While it was preparing, I went to Satis House and inquired for Miss Havisham; she was still very ill, though considered something better.
My inn had once been a part of an ancient ecclesiastical house, and I dined in a little octagonal common-room, like a font.

As I was not able to cut my dinner, the old landlord with a shining bald head did it for me.

This bringing us into conversation, he was so good as to entertain me with my own story,--of course with the popular feature that Pumblechook was my earliest benefactor and the founder of my fortunes.
"Do you know the young man ?" said I.
"Know him!" repeated the landlord.

"Ever since he was--no height at all." "Does he ever come back to this neighborhood ?" "Ay, he comes back," said the landlord, "to his great friends, now and again, and gives the cold shoulder to the man that made him." "What man is that ?" "Him that I speak of," said the landlord.