Scrooge and he were partners for I don’t know how many years. Scrooge was his sole friend, and sole mourner. There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.
Oh, he was tight-fisted, Scrooge! A squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold in him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shrivelled his cheeks, made his eyes red and his thin lips blue. External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No warmth could warm him, no wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he.
Once upon a time, on Christmas Eve,…
