Which he did perpetually.
He often informed Mrs Todgers that the sun had set upon him; that the
billows had rolled over him; that the car of Juggernaut had crushed him,
and also that the deadly Upas tree of Java had blighted him. His name
was Moddle.
Towards this most unhappy Moddle, Miss Pecksniff conducted herself at
first with distant haughtiness, being in no humour to be entertained
with dirges in honour of her married sister. The poor young gentleman
was additionally crushed by this, and remonstrated with Mrs Todgers on
the subject.
'Even she turns from me, Mrs Todgers,' said Moddle.
'Then why don't you try and be a little bit more cheerful, sir?'
retorted Mrs Todgers.
'Cheerful, Mrs Todgers! cheerful!' cried the youngest gentleman; 'when
she reminds me of days for ever fled, Mrs Todgers!'
'Then you had better avoid her for a short time, if she does,' said Mrs
Todgers, 'and come to know her again, by degrees. That's my advice.'
'But I can't avoid her,' replied Moddle, 'I haven't strength of mind to
do it. Oh, Mrs Todgers, if you knew what a comfort her nose is to me!'
'Her nose, sir!' Mrs Todgers cried.
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