The fact was, that when the five hundred pounds had come into my pocket, a thought had come into my head which had been often there before; and it appeared to me that Wemmick was a good person to advise with, concerning such thought.

He had already locked up his safe, and made preparations for going home. He had left his desk, brought out his two greasy office candlesticks and stood them in line with the snuffers on a slab near the door, ready to be extinguished; he had raked his fire low, put his hat and great-coat ready, and was beating himself all over the chest with his safe-key, as an athletic exercise after business.

`Mr Wemmick,' said I, `I want to ask your opinion. I am very desirous to serve a friend.'

Wemmick tightened his post-office and shook his head, as if his opinion were dead against any fatal weakness of that sort.

`This friend,' I pursued, `is trying to get on in commercial life, but has no money, and finds it difficult and disheartening to make a beginning. Now, I want somehow to help him to a beginning.'

`With money down?' said Wemmick, in a tone drier than any sawdust.

`With some money down,' I replied, for an uneasy remembrance shot across me of that symmetrical bundle of papers at home; `with some money down, and perhaps some anticipation of my expectations.'

`Mr Pip,' said Wemmick, `I should like just to run over with you on my fingers, if you please, the names of the various bridges up as high as Chelsea Reach. Let's see; there's London, one; Southwark, two; Blackfriars, three; Waterloo, four; Westminster, five; Vauxhall, six.' He had checked off each bridge in its turn, with the handle of his safe-key on the palm of his hand. `There's as many as six, you see, to choose from.'

`I don't understand you,' said I.

`Choose your bridge, Mr Pip,' returned Wemmick, `and take a walk upon your bridge, and pitch your money into the Thames over the centre arch of your bridge, and you know the end of it. Serve a friend with it, and you may know the end of it too - but it's a less pleasant and profitable end.'

I could have posted a newspaper in his mouth, he made it so wide after saying this.

`This is very discouraging,' said I.

`Meant to be so,' said Wemmick.

`Then is it your opinion,' I inquired, with some little indignation, `that a man should never--'

` - Invest portable property in a friend?' said Wemmick. `Certainly he should not. Unless he wants to get rid of the friend - and then it becomes a question how much portable property it may be worth to get rid of him.'

`And that,' said I, `is your deliberate opinion, Mr Wemmick?'

`That,' he returned, `is my deliberate opinion in this office.'

`Ah!' said I, pressing him, for I thought I saw him near a loophole here; `but would that be your opinion at Walworth?'

`Mr Pip,' he replied, with gravity, `Walworth is one place, and this office is another. Much as the Aged is one person, and Mr Jaggers is another. They must not be confounded together. My Walworth sentiments must be taken at Walworth; none but my official sentiments can be taken in this office.'