Titmouse entered to take her place; and
after interchanging a few faltering words with the white-haired and
hard-hearted old pawnbroker, produced his guard-chain, his breast-pin,
and his ring, and obtained three pounds two shillings and sixpence on
the security of them.

With this sum he slunk out of the shop, and calling on Cox, his tailor,
paid his trembling old creditor the full amount of his claim (L1, 8s.)
together with 4s., the expense of the summons--simply asking for a
receipt, without uttering another word, for he felt almost choked. In
the same way he dealt with Mrs. Squallop, his landlady--not uttering one
word in reply to her profuse and voluble apologies, but pressing his
lips between his teeth till the blood came from them, while his little
heart seemed splitting within him. Then he walked up-stairs, with a
desperate air--having just eighteen pence in his pocket--_all his
ornaments gone_--his washerwoman yet unpaid--his rent going on--several
other little matters unsettled; and the 10th of August approaching, when
he expected to be dismissed penniless from Mr. Tag-rag's and thrown on
his own resources for subsistence. When he had regained his room, and
having shut the door, had re-seated himself at his table, he felt for a
moment as if he could have yelled. Starvation and Despair, two fiends,
seemed sitting beside him in shadowy ghastliness, chilling and palsying
him--petrifying his heart within him. WHAT WAS HE TO DO? Why had he been
born? Why was he so much more persecuted and miserable than any one
else? Visions of his ring, his breast-pin, his studs, stuck in a bit of
card, with their price written above them, and hanging exposed to his
view in old Balls' window, almost frenzied him. Thoughts such as these
at length began to suggest others of a dreadful nature.... The means
were at that instant within his reach.... A sharp knock at the door
startled him out of the stupor into which he was sinking. He listened
for a moment as if he were not certain that the sound was a real one.
There seemed a ton-weight upon his heart, which a mighty sigh could lift
for an instant, but not remove; and he was in the act of heaving a
second such sigh, as he languidly opened the door--expecting to
encounter Mr. Thumbscrew, or some of his myrmidons, who might not know
of his recent settlement with his landlady.

"Is this Mr.--Tit--Titmouse's?" inquired a genteel-looking young man.

"Yes," replied Titmouse, sadly.

"Are