'Why, Tom, old boy, where on earth have you been? Your box is here. Get
your boots off instantly, and sit down!'
'I am sorry to say I can't stay, John,' replied Tom Pinch, who was
breathless with the haste he had made in running up the stairs.
'Can't stay!'
'If you'll go on with your dinner,' said Tom, 'I'll tell you my reason
the while. I mustn't eat myself, or I shall have no appetite for the
chops.'
'There are no chops here, my food fellow.'
'No. But there are at Islington,' said Tom.
John Westlock was perfectly confounded by this reply, and vowed he would
not touch a morsel until Tom had explained himself fully. So Tom sat
down, and told him all; to which he listened with the greatest interest.
He knew Tom too well, and respected his delicacy too much, to ask him
why he had taken these measures without communicating with him first. He
quite concurred in the expediency of Tom's immediately returning to his
sister, as he knew so little of the place in which he had left her, and
good-humouredly proposed to ride back with him in a cab, in which he
might convey his box.
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