'
Jingle delivered this singular summary of his prospects in life,
with his accustomed volubility, and with various twitches of the
countenance to counterfeit smiles. Mr. Pickwick easily perceived
that his recklessness was assumed, and looking him full, but not
unkindly, in the face, saw that his eyes were moist with tears.
'Good fellow,' said Jingle, pressing his hand, and turning his
head away. 'Ungrateful dog--boyish to cry--can't help it--bad
fever--weak--ill--hungry. Deserved it all--but suffered much--very.'
Wholly unable to keep up appearances any longer, and
perhaps rendered worse by the effort he had made, the dejected
stroller sat down on the stairs, and, covering his face with his
hands, sobbed like a child.
'Come, come,' said Mr. Pickwick, with considerable emotion,
'we will see what can be done, when I know all about the matter.
Here, Job; where is that fellow?'
'Here, sir,' replied Job, presenting himself on the staircase. We
have described him, by the bye, as having deeply-sunken eyes, in
the best of times. In his present state of want and distress, he
looked as if those features had gone out of town altogether.
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