‘With the usual exception, ma’am,’ said Bitzer, trying back, ‘of an individual.’
‘Ah—h!’ Mrs. Sparsit repeated the ejaculation, the shake of the head over her tea-cup, and the long gulp, as taking up the conversation again at the point where it had been interrupted.
‘An individual, ma’am,’ said Bitzer, ‘has never been what he ought to have been, since he first came into the place. He is a dissipated, extravagant idler. He is not worth his salt, ma’am. He wouldn’t get it either, if he hadn’t a friend and relation at court, ma’am!’
‘Ah—h!’ said Mrs. Sparsit, with another melancholy shake of her head.
‘I only hope, ma’am,’ pursued Bitzer, ‘that his friend and relation may not supply him with the means of carrying on. Otherwise, ma’am, we know out of whose pocket that money comes.’
‘Ah—h!’ sighed Mrs. Sparsit again, with another melancholy shake of her head.
‘He is to be pitied, ma’am. The last party I have alluded to, is to be pitied, ma’am,’ said Bitzer.
‘Yes, Bitzer,’ said Mrs. Sparsit. ‘I have always pitied the delusion, always.’
‘As to an individual, ma’am,’ said Bitzer, dropping his voice and drawing nearer, ‘he is as improvident as any of the people in this town. And you know what their improvidence is, ma’am. No one could wish to know it better than a lady of your eminence does.’
‘They would do well,’ returned Mrs. Sparsit, ‘to take example by you, Bitzer.’