 I
couldn't wound him in what he has not, and in what he knows nothing of, except
in his ability to probe them to the quick in other people, I am afraid I can lay
no claim to your compliment.«
    Mr. Pinch, being unwilling to protract a discussion which might possibly
corrupt Martin, forbore to say anything in reply to this speech; but John
Westlock, whom nothing short of an iron gag would have silenced when Mr.
Pecksniff's merits were once in question, continued notwithstanding.
    »His feelings! Oh, he's a tender-hearted man. His feelings! Oh, he's a
considerate, conscientious, self-examining, moral vagabond, he is! His feelings!
Oh! - what's the matter, Tom?«
    Mr. Pinch was by this time erect upon the hearth-rug, buttoning his coat
with great energy.
    »I can't bear it,« said Tom, shaking his head. »No. I really cannot. You
must excuse me, John. I have a great esteem and friendship for you; I love you
very much; and have been perfectly charmed and overjoyed to-day, to find you
just the same as ever; but I cannot listen to this.«
    »Why, it's my old way, Tom; and you say yourself that you are glad to find
me unchanged.«
    »Not in this respect,« said Tom Pinch. »You must excuse me, John. I cannot,
really; I will not. It's very wrong; you should be more guarded in your
expressions. It was bad enough when you and I used to be alone together, but
under existing circumstances, I can't endure it, really. No. I cannot, indeed.«
    »You are quite right!« exclaimed the other, exchanging looks with Martin;
»and I am quite wrong, Tom. I don't know how the deuce we fell on this unlucky
theme. I beg your pardon with all my heart.«
    »You have a free and manly temper, I know,« said Pinch; »and therefore, your
being so ungenerous in this one solitary instance, only grieves me the more.
It's not my pardon you have to ask, John. You have done me nothing but
kindnesses.«
    »Well! Pecksniff's pardon, then,« said young Westlock. »Anything, Tom, or
anybody. Pecksniff's pardon. Will that do? Here! let us drink
