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VII . London It took about five hours to get to London by coach . Mr Jaggers’s office was in a street called Little Britain , and it was a dark , dirty , uncomfortable room . On a shelf above his chair stood two dreadful plaster casts of men’s faces , with swollen noses . Mr Jaggers was out at court , and his clerk told me to wait . When he came back , a crowd of anxious people followed him , and he dealt with every one of them quickly and coldly . He told me that I would live for the present with young Mr Pocket , the son of my teacher , at a place called Barnard’s Inn . He then sent me there with his clerk , Mr Wemmick . Mr Wemmick was a dry man , rather short , with a square wooden face . He had a mouth like a post office box , into which he seemed to post his food rather than eat it . He wore several rings and a brooch , which , he told me , were presents from clients who had been hanged . “ Get hold of portable property , ” he advised me . “ You never know when you may need it . ” Barnard’s Inn turned out to be the dirtiest collection of shabby buildings that I had ever seen . On the top floor I found the rooms of Mr Herbert Pocket . Soon he came running up the stairs with a bag of strawberries , and we looked at each other in great surprise . “ Dear me ! ” he said . “ You’re the boy I fought in Miss Havisham’s garden ! ” “ And you , ” said I , “ are the pale young gentleman ! ” We laughed and shook hands , and from that moment we were friends . Herbert was a cheerful young man , not strong , with a frank and easy manner . There was something wonderfully hopeful about him , though I felt from the beginning that he would never be very rich . He told me that Miss Havisham had once invited him to Satis House to see if he would suit her . He had not suited her , and that was why we had fought . “ Would you mind if I called you Handel ? ” he asked me . “ There’s a charming piece of music by Handel called The Harmonious Blacksmith . ” I said that I would like it very much . At dinner he corrected my manners in the kindest way , so gently that I was not ashamed . He said that in London it was not the custom to put the knife in the mouth , and that a spoon was not generally used over the top of the glass . Then , as I asked him , he told me Miss Havisham’s story . “ Her mother died when she was a baby , ” he said , “ and her father was a very rich man who made beer . He married a second time , secretly , and had a son , Arthur . When the father died , Miss Havisham was an heiress , and she had most of his money . Her half - brother Arthur had less , and he wasted it , and he hated her . Then a man appeared who said that he loved her . He was very showy , and she loved him passionately . She gave him large sums of money , and he persuaded her to buy her brother’s share of the business at a great price . Everything was ready for the wedding . The dresses were bought , the guests were invited , and the cake was on the table . Then , on the wedding day , a letter came from him . ” “ Which she received , ” I said , “ when she was dressing for her marriage , at twenty minutes to nine ? ”
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