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作者: Charles Dickens

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He spoke with the diffidence of a man who knew how slight a thing
would overset the delicate organisation of the mind, and yet with
the confidence of a man who had slowly won his assurance out of
personal endurance and distress. It was not for his friend to
abate that confidence. He professed himself more relieved and
encouraged than he really was, and approached his second and last
point. He felt it to be the most difficult of all; but,
remembering his old Sunday morning conversation with Miss Pross,
and remembering what he had seen in the last nine days, he knew
that he must face it.

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