He could be a busy man, and a lazy man; cloudy in the head, and clear in the head; a model of determination, and a spectacle of helplessness, all together.

He had his French side, and his German side, and his Italian side--the original English foundation showing through, every now and then, as much as to say, "Here I am, sorely transmogrified, as you see, but there's something of me left at the bottom of him still." Miss Rachel used to remark that the Italian side of him was uppermost, on those occasions when he unexpectedly gave in, and asked you in his nice sweet-tempered way to take his own responsibilities on your shoulders.

You will do him no injustice, I think, if you conclude that the Italian side of him was uppermost now.
"Isn't it your business, sir," I asked, "to know what to do next?
Surely it can't be mine ?" Mr.Franklin didn't appear to see the force of my question--not being in a position, at the time, to see anything but the sky over his head.
"I don't want to alarm my aunt without reason," he said.

"And I don't want to leave her without what may be a needful warning.

If you were in my place, Betteredge, tell me, in one word, what would you do ?" In one word, I told him: "Wait." "With all my heart," says Mr.Franklin.