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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"Martin Chuzzlewit"

It fortunately occurred to
me, that if I gave it him myself I could be of no further use. I should
have been blown upon immediately.'
'Mr Nadgett, you are a jewel,' said Montague, patting him on the back.
'What's your lodger's name?'
'Pinch, sir. Thomas Pinch.'
Montague reflected for a little while, and then asked:
'From the country, do you know?'
'From Wiltshire, sir, he told me.'
They parted without another word. To see Mr Nadgett's bow when Montague
and he next met, and to see Mr Montague acknowledge it, anybody might
have undertaken to swear that they had never spoken to each other
confidentially in all their lives.
In the meanwhile, Mr Jonas and the doctor made themselves very
comfortable upstairs, over a bottle of the old Madeira and some
sandwiches; for the doctor having been already invited to dine below at
six o'clock, preferred a light repast for lunch. It was advisable, he
said, in two points of view: First, as being healthy in itself. Secondly
as being the better preparation for dinner.
'And you are bound for all our sakes to take particular care of your
digestion, Mr Chuzzlewit, my dear sir,' said the doctor smacking his
lips after a glass of wine; 'for depend upon it, it is worth preserving.


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