Jonas could look at his company now, and vauntingly too. 'Well!' he
said, after a pause. 'Are you satisfied? or have you any more of your
plots to broach? Why that fellow, Lewsome, can invent 'em for you by the
score. Is this all? Have you nothing else?'
Old Martin looked at him steadily.
'Whether you are what you seemed to be at Pecksniff's, or are something
else and a mountebank, I don't know and I don't care,' said Jonas,
looking downward with a smile, 'but I don't want you here. You were here
so often when your brother was alive, and were always so fond of him
(your dear, dear brother, and you would have been cuffing one another
before this, ecod!), that I am not surprised at your being attached to
the place; but the place is not attached to you, and you can't leave it
too soon, though you may leave it too late. And for my wife, old man,
send her home straight, or it will be the worse for her. Ha, ha! You
carry it with a high hand, too! But it isn't hanging yet for a man to
keep a penn'orth of poison for his own purposes, and have it taken from
him by two old crazy jolter-heads who go and act a play about it.
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