as they do their betters every day, would
that ten thousand pounds have brought me in! Grant that I had doubled
it--made cent. per cent.--for every sovereign told another--there would
not be one piece of money in all the heap which wouldn't represent ten
thousand mean and paltry lies, told, not by the money-lender, oh no!
but by the money-borrowers, your liberal, thoughtless, generous, dashing
folks, who wouldn't be so mean as save a sixpence for the world!'

Striving, as it would seem, to lose part of the bitterness of his
regrets in the bitterness of these other thoughts, Ralph continued to
pace the room. There was less and less of resolution in his manner as
his mind gradually reverted to his loss; at length, dropping into his
elbow-chair and grasping its sides so firmly that they creaked again, he
said:

'The time has been when nothing could have moved me like the loss of
this great sum. Nothing. For births, deaths, marriages, and all
the events which are of interest to most men, have (unless they are
connected with gain or loss of money) no interest for me. But now, I
swear, I mix up with the loss, his triumph in telling it. If he had
brought it about,--I almost feel as if he had,--I couldn't hate him
more. Let me but retaliate upon him, by degrees, however slow--let me
but begin to get the better of him, let me but turn the scale--and I can
bear it.'

His meditations were long and deep. They terminated in his dispatching
a letter by Newman, addressed to Mr Squeers at the Saracen's Head, with
instructions to inquire whether he had arrived in town, and, if so, to
wait an answer. Newman brought back the information that Mr Squeers had
come by mail that morning, and had received the letter in bed; but
that he sent his duty, and word that he would get up and wait upon Mr
Nickleby directly.

The interval between the delivery of this message, and the arrival of Mr
Squeers, was very short; but, before he came, Ralph had suppressed every
sign of emotion, and once more regained the hard, immovable, inflexible
manner which was habitual to him, and to which, perhaps, was ascribable
no small part of the influence which, over many men of no very strong
prejudices on the score of morality, he could exert, almost at will.

'Well, Mr Squeers,' he said, welcoming that worthy with his accustomed
smile, of which a sharp look and a thoughtful frown were part and
parcel: 'how do YOU do?'

'Why, sir,' said Mr Squeers, 'I'm prett