"Hold hard, Bill," he says. "Wot, ain't
you come home yet, Tventy?' says the turnkey, "I thought you
wos in, long ago." "No, I wasn't," says the little man, with a
smile. "Well, then, I'll tell you wot it is, my friend," says the
turnkey, openin' the gate wery slow and sulky, "it's my 'pinion
as you've got into bad company o' late, which I'm wery sorry to
see. Now, I don't wish to do nothing harsh," he says, "but if you
can't confine yourself to steady circles, and find your vay back at
reg'lar hours, as sure as you're a-standin' there, I'll shut you out
altogether!" The little man was seized vith a wiolent fit o'
tremblin', and never vent outside the prison walls artervards!'
As Sam concluded, Mr. Pickwick slowly retraced his steps
downstairs. After a few thoughtful turns in the Painted Ground,
which, as it was now dark, was nearly deserted, he intimated to
Mr. Weller that he thought it high time for him to withdraw for
the night; requesting him to seek a bed in some adjacent public-
house, and return early in the morning, to make arrangements
for the removal of his master's wardrobe from the George and
Vulture. This request Mr.
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