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may have unpolitely asserted a kind of proprietorship in Mr
Weevle； “because I have known writers that have gone into
Brewers’ houses and done really very respectable indeed。
Eminently respectable； sir；” adds Mr Snagsby； with a misgiving
that he had not improved the matter。
“It’s a curious coincidence； as you say；” answers Weevle； once
more glancing up and down the court。
“Seems a Fate in it； don’t there？” suggests the stationer。
“There does。”
“Just so；” observes the stationer； with his confirmatory cough。
“Quite a Fate in it。 Quite a Fate。 Well； Mr Weevle； I am afraid I
must bid you good night；” Mr Snagsby speaks as if it made him
desolate to go； though he has been casting about for any means of
escape ever since he stopped to speak； “my little woman will be
looking for me； else。 Good night； sir！”
If Mr Snagsby hastens home to save his little woman the
trouble of looking for him； he might set his mind at rest on that
score。 His little woman has had her eye upon him round the Sol’s
Arms all this time； and now glides after him with a pocket
handkerchief wrapped over her head； honouring Mr Weevle and
his doorway with a very searching glance as she goes past。
“You’ll know me again； ma’am； at all events；” says Mr Weevle to
himself； “and I can’t compliment you on your appearance；
whoever you are； with your head tied up in a bundle。 Is this fellow
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never coming！”
This fellow approaches as he speaks。 Mr Weevle softly holds up
his finger； and draws him into the passage； and closes the street
door。 Then； they go upstairs； Mr Weevle heavily； and Mr Guppy
（for it is he） very lightly indeed。 When they are shut into the back
room； they speak low。
“I thought you had gone to Jericho at least； instead of coming
here；” says Tony。
“Why； I said about ten。”
“You said about ten；” Tony repeats。 “Yes； so you did say about
ten。 But； according to my count； it’s ten times ten—it’s a hundred
o’clock。 I never had such a night in my life！”
“What has been the matter？”
“That’s it！” says Tony。 “Nothing has been the matter。 But； here
have I been stewing and fuming in this jolly old crib； till I have had
the horrors falling on me as thick as hail。 There’s a blessed looking
candle！” says Tony； pointing to the heavily burning taper on his
table with a great cabbage head and a long winding…sheet。
“That’s easily improved；” Mr Guppy observes； as he takes the
snuffers in hand。
“Is it？” returned his friend。 “Not so easily as you think。 It has
been smouldering like that； ever since it was lighted。”
“Why； what’s the matter with you； Tony？” inquires Mr Guppy；
looking at him； snuffers in hand； as he sits down with his elbow on
the table。
“William Guppy；” replies the other； “I am in the Downs。 It’s this
unbearably dull； suicidal room—and old Boguey downstairs； I
suppose。” Mr Weevle moodily pushes the snuffers…tray from him
with his elbow； leans his head on his hand； puts his feet on the
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Bleak House 619
fender； and looks at the fire。 Mr Guppy； observing him； slightly
tosses his head； and sits down on the other side of the table in an
easy attitude。
“Wasn’t that Snagsby talking to you； Tony？”
“Yes； and he—yes； it was Snagsby；” says Mr Weevle； altering
the construction of the sentence。
“On business？”
“No。 No business。 He was only sauntering by and stopped to
prose。”
“I thought it was Snagsby；” says Mr Guppy； “and thought it as
well that he shouldn’t see me； so I waited till he was gone。”
“There we go again； William G。！” cries Tony； looking up for an
instant。 “So mysterious and secret！ By George； if we were going to
commit a murder； we couldn’t have more mystery about it！”
Mr Guppy affects to smile； and with the view of changing the
conversation； looks with an admiration； real or pretended； round
the room at the Galaxy gallery of British beauty； terminating his
survey with the portrait of Lady Dedlock over the mantel…shelf； in
which she is represented on a terrace； with a pedestal upon the
terrace； and a vase upon the pedestal； and her shawl upon the
vase； and a prodigious piece of fur upon the shawl and her arm
upon the piece of fur； and a bracelet on her arm。
“That’s very like Lady Dedlock；” says Mr Guppy。 “It’s a
speaking likeness。”
“I wish it was；” growls Tony； without changing his position。 “I
should have some fashionable conversation here； then。”
Finding； by this time； that his friend is not to be wheedled into a
more sociable humour； Mr Guppy puts about upon the ill…used
tack； and remonstrates with him。
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“Tony；” says he； “I can make allowances for lowness of spirits；
for no man knows what it is when it does come upon a man； better
than I do； and no man perhaps has a better right to know it； than a
man who has an unrequited image printed on his art。 But there
are bounds to these things when an unoffending party is in
question； and I will acknowledge to you； Tony； that I don’t think
your manner on the present occasion is hospitable or quite
gentlemanly。”
“This is strong language； William Guppy；” returns Mr Weevle。
“Sir； it may be；” retorts Mr William Guppy； “but I feel strongly
when I use it。”
Mr Weevle admits that he has been wrong； and begs Mr William
Guppy to think no more about it。 Mr William Guppy； however；
having got the advantage； cannot quite release it without a little
more injured remonstrance。
“No！ Dash it； Tony；” says that gentleman； “you really ought to
be careful how you wound the feelings of a man； who has an
unrequited image imprinted on his art； and who is not altogether
happy in those chords which vibrate to the tenderest emotions。
You； Tony； possess in yourself all that is calculated to charm the
eye； and allure the taste。 It is not—happily for you； perhaps； and I
may wish that I could say the same—it is not your character to
hover around one flower。 The ’ole garden is open to you； and your
airy pinions carry you through it。 Still； Tony； far be it from me； I
am sure； to wound even your feelings without a cause！”
Tony again entreats that the subject may be no longer pursued；
saying emphatically； “William Guppy； drop it！” Mr Guppy
acquiesces； with the reply； “I never should have taken it up； Tony；
of my own accord。”
Charles Dickens