it deserted me--never. Mr. Brass is
of the same opinion, I suppose?"
His friend nodded again, with a cunning look which seemed to hint that
Mr. Brass held stronger opinions on the subject than his sister; and
seeming to recollect herself, added imploringly, "But don't you ever
tell upon me, or I shall be beat to death."
"Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller, rising, "the word of a gentleman is
as good as his bond--sometimes better; as in the present case, where his
bond might prove but a doubtful sort of security. I am your friend, and
I hope we shall play many more rubbers together in the same saloon. But,
Marchioness," added Richard, stopping on his way to the door, and
wheeling slowly round upon the small servant, who was following with the
candle, "it occurs to me that you must be in the constant habit of
airing your eye at keyholes, to know all this."
"I only wanted," replied the trembling Marchioness, "to know where the
key of the safe was hid; that was all; and I wouldn't have taken much,
if I had found it--only enough to squench my hunger."
"You didn't find it, then?" said Dick. "But of course you didn't, or
you'd be plumper. Good-night, Marchioness. Fare thee well, and if
forever, then forever fare thee well--and put up the chain, Marchioness,
in case of accidents."
With this parting word, Mr. Swiveller came out from the house; and
feeling that he had by this time taken quite as much to drink as
promised to be good for his constitution (purl being a rather strong and
heady compound), wisely resolved to betake himself to his lodgings, and
to bed at once. Homeward he went therefore; and his apartments (for he
still spoke of his one little room as "apartments") being at no great
distance from the office, he was soon seated in his own bed-chamber,
where, having pulled off one boot and forgotten the other, he fell into
deep thought.
"This Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller, folding his arms, "is a very
extraordinary person--surrounded by mysteries, ignorant of the taste of
beer, unacquainted with her own name (which is less remarkable), and
taking a limited view of society through the keyholes of doors--can
these things be her destiny, or has some unknown person started an
opposition to the decrees of fate? It is a most amazing staggerer!"
When his meditations had attained this satisfactory point, he became
aware of his remaining boot, of which, with great solemnity, he
proceeded to divest himself; shaking
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