His eye had fallen on his razors;
but what of them!
Mr Chuzzlewit was announced.
'Show him up directly. Nadgett! don't you leave us alone together. Mind
you don't, now! By the Lord!' he added in a whisper to himself: 'We
don't know what may happen.'
Saying this, he hurriedly took up a couple of hair-brushes, and began
to exercise them on his own head, as if his toilet had not been
interrupted. Mr Nadgett withdrew to the stove, in which there was a
small fire for the convenience of heating curling-irons; and
taking advantage of so favourable an opportunity for drying his
pocket-handkerchief, produced it without loss of time. There he stood,
during the whole interview, holding it before the bars, and sometimes,
but not often, glancing over his shoulder.
'My dear Chuzzlewit!' cried Montague, as Jonas entered. 'You rise with
the lark. Though you go to bed with the nightingale, you rise with the
lark. You have superhuman energy, my dear Chuzzlewit!'
'Ecod!' said Jonas, with an air of langour and ill-humour, as he took
a chair, 'I should be very glad not to get up with the lark, if I could
help it.
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