floral oil painting

t?' ¡¡¡¡Traddles looked at me, as if he wondered what I was talking about. ¡¡¡¡'Mr. and Mrs. Micawber!' I repeated. 'Why, I am intimately acquainted with them!' ¡¡¡¡An opportune double knock at the door, which I knew well from old experience in Windsor Terrace, and which nobody but Mr. Micawber could ever have knocked at that door, resolved any doubt in my mind as to their being my old friends. I begged Traddles to ask his landlord to walk up. Traddles accordingly did so,
oil paintingover the banister; and Mr. Micawber, not a bit changed - his tights, his stick, his shirt-collar, and his eye-glass, all the same as ever - came into the room with a genteel and youthful air. ¡¡¡¡'I beg your pardon, Mr. Traddles,' said Mr. Micawber, with the old roll in his voice, as he checked himself in humming a soft tune. 'I was not aware that there was any individual, alien to this tenement, in your sanctum.' ¡¡¡¡Mr. Micawber slightly bowed to me, and pulled up his shirt-collar. ¡¡¡¡'How do you do, Mr. Micawber?' said I.