'My dear Sir,' remonstrated the little man.
'Give it him,' interposed Mr. Wardle, 'and let him go.'
The cheque was written by the little gentleman, and pocketed
by Mr. Jingle.
'Now, leave this house instantly!' said Wardle, starting up.
'My dear Sir,' urged the little man.
'And mind,' said Mr. Wardle, 'that nothing should have
induced me to make this compromise--not even a regard for my
family--if I had not known that the moment you got any money
in that pocket of yours, you'd go to the devil faster, if possible,
than you would without it--'
'My dear sir,' urged the little man again.
'Be quiet, Perker,' resumed Wardle. 'Leave the room, Sir.'
'Off directly,' said the unabashed Jingle. 'Bye bye, Pickwick.'
If any dispassionate spectator could have beheld the countenance
of the illustrious man, whose name forms the leading
feature of the title of this work, during the latter part of this
conversation, he would have been almost induced to wonder that
the indignant fire which flashed from his eyes did not melt the
glasses of his spectacles--so majestic was his wrath. His nostrils
dilated, and his fists clenched involuntarily, as he heard himself
addressed by the villain.
Pages:
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256