n the meantime,' said Tom, 'I must really take myself off, without
any further ceremony.'

'Is your business so very particular,' asked Martin, 'that you cannot
remain with us for half an hour? I wish you could. What IS your
business, Tom?'

It was Tom's turn to be embarrassed now; but he plainly said, after a
little hesitation:

'Why, I am not at liberty to say what it is, Martin; though I hope
soon to be in a condition to do so, and am aware of no other reason
to prevent my doing so now, than the request of my employer. It's an
awkward position to be placed in,' said Tom, with an uneasy sense of
seeming to doubt his friend, 'as I feel every day; but I really cannot
help it, can I, John?'

John Westlock replied in the negative; and Martin, expressing himself
perfectly satisfied, begged them not to say another word; though he
could not help wondering very much what curious office Tom held, and why
he was so secret, and embarrassed, and unlike himself, in reference to
it. Nor could he help reverting to it, in his own mind, several times
after Tom went away, which he did as soon as this conversation was
ended, taking Mr Tapley with him, who, as he laughingly said, might
accompany him as far as Fleet Street without injury.

'And what do you mean to do, Mark?' asked Tom, as they walked on
together.

'Mean to do, sir?' returned Mr Tapley.

'Aye. What course of life do you mean to pursue?'

'Well, sir,' said Mr Tapley. 'The fact is, that I have been a-thinking
rather of the matrimonial line, sir.'

'You don't say so, Mark!' cried Tom.

'Yes, sir. I've been a-turnin' of it over.'

'And who is the lady, Mark?'

'The which, sir?' said Mr Tapley.

'The lady. Come! You know what I said,' replied Tom, laughing, 'as well
as I do!'

Mr Tapley suppressed his own inclination to laugh; and with one of his
most whimsically-twisted looks, replied:

'You couldn't guess, I suppose, Mr Pinch?'

'How is it possible?' said Tom. 'I don't know any of your flames, Mark.
Except Mrs Lupin, indeed.'

'Well, sir!' retorted Mr Tapley. 'And supposing it was her!'

Tom stopping in the street to look at him, Mr Tapley for a moment
presented to his view an utterly stolid and expressionless face; a
perfect dead wall of countenance. But opening window after window in
it with astonishing rapidity, and lighting them all up as for a general
illumination, he repeated:

'Supposin', for the sake of argument, as it was her, sir!'

'Why