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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"Martin Chuzzlewit"

I'm out of spirits, Pinch.'
'Well,' cried Tom, 'now do you know I am in capital spirits today, and
scarcely ever felt more disposed to be good company. It was a very kind
thing in your predecessor, John, to write to me, was it not?'
'Why, yes,' said Martin carelessly; 'I should have thought he would have
had enough to do to enjoy himself, without thinking of you, Pinch.'
'Just what I felt to be so very likely,' Tom rejoined; 'but no, he keeps
his word, and says, "My dear Pinch, I often think of you," and all sorts
of kind and considerate things of that description.'
'He must be a devilish good-natured fellow,' said Martin, somewhat
peevishly: 'because he can't mean that, you know.'
'I don't suppose he can, eh?' said Tom, looking wistfully in his
companion's face. 'He says so to please me, you think?'
'Why, is it likely,' rejoined Martin, with greater earnestness, 'that
a young man newly escaped from this kennel of a place, and fresh to all
the delights of being his own master in London, can have much leisure
or inclination to think favourably of anything or anybody he has left
behind him here? I put it to you, Pinch, is it natural?'
After a short reflection, Mr Pinch replied, in a more subdued tone, that
to be sure it was unreasonable to expect any such thing, and that he had
no doubt Martin knew best.


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