The young lady, too,
sir--consider her feelings.'
'You are very right,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'The consideration
evinces your delicacy of feeling. Go on; you are very right.'
'Well, sir, I have been thinking that if you were waiting in the
back garden alone, and I was to let you in, at the door which
opens into it, from the end of the passage, at exactly half-past
eleven o'clock, you would be just in the very moment of time to
assist me in frustrating the designs of this bad man, by whom I
have been unfortunately ensnared.' Here Mr. Trotter sighed deeply.
'Don't distress yourself on that account,' said Mr. Pickwick;
'if he had one grain of the delicacy of feeling which distinguishes
you, humble as your station is, I should have some hopes of him.'
Job Trotter bowed low; and in spite of Mr. Weller's previous
remonstrance, the tears again rose to his eyes.
'I never see such a feller,' said Sam, 'Blessed if I don't think
he's got a main in his head as is always turned on.'
'Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, with great severity, 'hold
your tongue.'
'Wery well, sir,' replied Mr. Weller.
'I don't like this plan,' said Mr. Pickwick, after deep meditation.
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