[CHAPTER XX]
AN UNEXPECTED PROPOSITION.
But although the tone of Muzzy's acquiescence in the turning over of a new leaf was almost abject, his manner denoted inward disturbance. His restless eyes became more restless in the endeavour to look steadily into Mr. Sheldrake's face, and his lips twitched nervously as he passed the back of his hand across them with the air of one who is thirsty. The sudden interest which Mr. Sheldrake exhibited in Lizzie and her lover was evidently distressing to him, and he waited anxiously for an explanation. Mr. Sheldrake did not notice these symptoms; he was too much engrossed in his own musing, the satisfactory nature of which was evidenced by the bright look he turned upon Muzzy.
"This girl, this Lizzie," he said, following the current of his thoughts, "who has no parents—she has none?"
"None, sir."
"Must find it dull work living up in a garret by herself."
"Lizzie is happy enough," said Muzzy; "I have never heard her complain; she is a good girl, sir."
"Doubtless; but nevertheless would jump at the opportunity of living in a pretty detached house in the suburbs, say in St. John's-wood or Kensington, or better still near to the river--a pretty house, cosily furnished, with a garden round it. How would that suit you, old man?"
Muzzy stared in amazement at his employer, who continued gaily,
"Respectably dressed, living a quiet respectable life, as a widower, say with an only child, a daughter—"