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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"Martin Chuzzlewit"

'
It was a very long time before Tom said 'Certainly;' so long, that he
might have taken a nap in the interval, but he did say it at last.
'Now, there is one odd coincidence connected with this love-story,' said
Martin, 'which brings it to an end. You remember what you told me last
night as we were coming here, about your pretty visitor in the church?'
'Surely I do,' said Tom, rising from his stool, and seating himself in
the chair from which the other had lately risen, that he might see his
face. 'Undoubtedly.'
'That was she.'
'I knew what you were going to say,' cried Tom, looking fixedly at him,
and speaking very softly. 'You don't tell me so?'
'That was she,' repeated the young man. 'After what I have heard
from Pecksniff, I have no doubt that she came and went with my
grandfather.--Don't you drink too much of that sour wine, or you'll have
a fit of some sort, Pinch, I see.'
'It is not very wholesome, I am afraid,' said Tom, setting down the
empty glass he had for some time held. 'So that was she, was it?'
Martin nodded assent; and adding, with a restless impatience, that if
he had been a few days earlier he would have seen her; and that now she
might be, for anything he knew, hundreds of miles away; threw himself,
after a few turns across the room, into a chair, and chafed like a
spoilt child.


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