at y^r resp^e house w^d take for my Chances
Down (_Out and out_) In a Round Sum (_Ready money_). And hope if
they Write It will be by Next Post or Shall be Gone Abroad."

Old Mr. Quirk, as soon as he had finished the perusal of this skilful
document, started, a little disturbed, from his seat, and bustled into
Mr. Gammon's room with Mr. Titmouse's open letter in his
hand.--"Gammon," said he, "just cast your eye over this, will you?
Really, we must look after Titmouse, or, by Jove! he'll be gone!" Mr.
Gammon took the letter rather eagerly, read deliberately through it, and
then looked up at his fidgety partner, who stood anxiously eying him,
and smiled.

"Well, Gammon, I really think--eh? Don't you"----

"Upon my word, Mr. Quirk, this nearly equals his last letter; and it
also seems to have produced on you the effect desired by its gifted
writer!"

"Well, Gammon, and what of that? Because my heart don't happen to be
_quite_ a piece of flint, you're always"--

"You might have been a far wealthier man than you are but for that soft
heart of yours, Mr. Quirk," said Gammon, with a bland smile.(!)

"I know I might, Gammon--I know it. I thank my God I'm not so keen after
business that I can't feel for this poor soul--really, his state's quite
deplorable."

"Then, my dear sir, put your hand into your pocket at once, as I was
suggesting last night, and allow him a weekly sum."

"A--hem! hem! Gammon"--said Quirk, sitting down, thrusting his hands
into his waistcoat pockets, and looking very earnestly at Gammon.

"Well, then," replied that gentleman, shrugging his shoulders, in answer
to the mute appeal--"write and say you _won't_--'tis soon done, and so
the matter ends."

"Why, Gammon, you see, if he goes abroad," said Quirk, after a long
pause--"we lose him forever."

"Pho!--go abroad! He's too much for you, Mr. Quirk--he is indeed, ha,
ha!"

"You're fond of a laugh at my expense, Gammon; it's quite pleasant--you
can't think how I like that laugh of yours!"

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Quirk--but you really misunderstand me; I was
laughing only at the absurd inconsistency of the fellow: he's a most
transparent little fool, and takes _us_ for such. Go abroad! Ridiculous
pretence!--In his precious postscript he undoes all--he says he is only
often _thinking_ of going--- pshaw!--That the wretch is in great
distress, is very probable; but it must go hard with him before he
either commits suicide or goes abroad