At any
rate, Mr Moddle was much slower in his responses than is customary
with young lovers, and exhibited a lowness of spirits which was quite
oppressive.
He did not improve at all when Tom and he were in the streets, but
sighed so dismally that it was dreadful to hear him. As a means of
cheering him up, Tom told him that he wished him joy.
'Joy!' cried Moddle. 'Ha, ha!'
'What an extraordinary young man!' thought Tom.
'The Scorner has not set his seal upon you. YOU care what becomes of
you?' said Moddle.
Tom admitted that it was a subject in which he certainly felt some
interest.
'I don't,' said Mr Moddle. 'The Elements may have me when they please.
I'm ready.'
Tom inferred from these, and other expressions of the same nature, that
he was jealous. Therefore he allowed him to take his own course; which
was such a gloomy one, that he felt a load removed from his mind when
they parted company at the gate of Furnival's Inn.
It was now a couple of hours past John Westlock's dinner-time; and he
was walking up and down the room, quite anxious for Tom's safety. The
table was spread; the wine was carefully decanted; and the dinner smelt
delicious.
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