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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"Martin Chuzzlewit"


'John!' cried Tom. 'John!'
'Dear Tom,' said his friend, 'give me your hand. We are brothers, Tom.'
Tom wrung it with all his force, embraced his sister fervently, and put
her in John Westlock's arms.
'Don't speak to me, John. Heaven is very good to us. I--' Tom could find
no further utterance, but left the room; and Ruth went after him.
And when they came back, which they did by-and-bye, she looked more
beautiful, and Tom more good and true (if that were possible) than ever.
And though Tom could not speak upon the subject even now; being yet
too newly glad, he put both his hands in both of John's with emphasis
sufficient for the best speech ever spoken.
'I am glad you chose to-day,' said Mr Chuzzlewit to John; with the same
knowing smile as when they had left him. 'I thought you would. I hoped
Tom and I lingered behind a discreet time. It's so long since I had
any practical knowledge of these subjects, that I have been anxious, I
assure you.'
'Your knowledge is still pretty accurate, sir,' returned John, laughing,
'if it led you to foresee what would happen to-day.


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