Iamafraid，sir，saidMr。Pickwick，layinghishandgentlyandcompassionatelyonhisarm。Iamafraidyouwillhavetoliveinsomenoisycrowdedplace。
Now，pray，considerthisroomyourownwhenyouwantquiet，orwhenanyofyourfriendscometoseeyou。
Friends！interposedtheman，inavoicewhichrattledinhisthroat。
IfIlaydeadatthebottomofthedeepestmineintheworld。tightscreweddownandsolderedinmycoffin。rottinginthedarkandfilthyditchthatdragsitsslimealong，beneaththefoundationsofthisprison。IcouldnotbemoreforgottenorunheededthanIamhere。Iamadeadman。deadtosociety，withoutthepitytheybestowonthosewhosesoulshavepassedtojudgment。Friendstoseeme！MyGod！Ihavesunk，fromtheprimeoflifeintooldage，inthisplace，andthereisnotonetoraisehishandabovemybedwhenIliedeaduponit，andsay，`Itisablessingheisgone！’
Theexcitement，whichhadcastanunwontedlightovertheman’sface，whilehespoke，subsidedasheconcluded。and，pressinghiswitheredhandstogetherinahastyanddisorderedmanner，heshuffledfromtheroom。