Saving for the one weird smile at first, I should have felt almost sure that Miss Havisham's face could not smile. It had dropped into a watchful and brooding expression,--most likely when all the things about her had become transfixed,--and it looked as if nothing could ever lift it up again. Her chest had dropped, so that she stooped; and her voice had dropped, so that she spoke low, and with a dead lull upon her; altogether, she had the appearance of having dropped body and soul, within and without, under the weight of a crushing blow.

     I played the game to an end with Estella, and she beggared me. She threw the cards down on the table when she had won them all, as if she despised them for having been won of me.

     "When shall I have you here again?" said Miss Havisham. "Let me think."

     I was beginning to remind her that to-day was Wednesday, when she checked me with her former impatient movement of the fingers of her right hand.

     "There, there! I know nothing of days of the week; I know nothing of weeks of the year. Come again after six days. You hear?"

     "Yes, ma'am."

     "Estella, take him down. Let him have something to eat, and let him roam and look about him while he eats. Go, Pip."