Having communicated this piece of information, apparently
more for the purpose of discharging his bosom of an important
fact, than with any specific view of enlightening Mr. Pickwick,
the guide, having at length reached another gallery, led the way
into a small passage at the extreme end, opened a door, and
disclosed an apartment of an appearance by no means inviting,
containing eight or nine iron bedsteads.
'There,' said Mr. Roker, holding the door open, and looking
triumphantly round at Mr. Pickwick, 'there's a room!'
Mr. Pickwick's face, however, betokened such a very trifling
portion of satisfaction at the appearance of his lodging, that
Mr. Roker looked, for a reciprocity of feeling, into the countenance
of Samuel Weller, who, until now, had observed a dignified silence.
'There's a room, young man,' observed Mr. Roker.
'I see it,' replied Sam, with a placid nod of the head.
'You wouldn't think to find such a room as this in the
Farringdon Hotel, would you?' said Mr. Roker, with a
complacent smile.
To this Mr. Weller replied with an easy and unstudied closing
of one eye; which might be considered to mean, either that he
would have thought it, or that he would not have thought it, or
that he had never thought anything at all about it, as the
observer's imagination suggested.
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