Chapter 21

⁠​​​‌​​​​‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌⁠Casting my eyes on Mr. Wemmick as we went along, to see what he was like in the light of day, I found him to be a dry man, rather short in stature, with a square wooden face, whose expression seemed to have been imperfectly chipped out with a dull-edged chisel. There were some marks in it that might have been dimples, if the material had been softer and the instrument finer, but which, as it was,