‘We’ll see about it, Tapley. You shall tell me in what disposition you find yourself to-morrow.’
‘Then, sir,’ said Mark, rubbing his hands, ‘the job’s done. Go on, sir, if you please. I’m all attention.’
Throwing himself back in his arm-chair, and looking at the fire, with now and then a glance at Mark, who at such times nodded his head sagely, to express his profound interest and attention. Martin ran over the chief points in his history, to the same effect as he had related them, weeks before, to Mr Pinch. But he adapted them, according to the best of his judgment, to Mr Tapley’s comprehension; and with that view made as light of his love affair as he could, and referred to it in very few words. But here he reckoned without his host; for Mark’s interest was keenest in this part of the business, and prompted him to ask sundry questions in relation to it; for which he apologised as one in some measure privileged to do so, from having seen (as Martin explained to him) the young lady at the Blue Dragon.
‘And a young lady as any gentleman ought to feel more proud of being in love with,’ said Mark, energetically, ‘don’t draw breath.’
‘Aye! You saw her when she was not happy,’ said Martin, gazing at the fire again. ‘If you had seen her in the old times, indeed—’
‘Why, she certainly was a little down-hearted, sir, and something paler in her colour than I could have wished,’ said Mark, ‘but none the worse in her looks for that. I think she seemed better, sir, after she come to London.’
Martin withdrew his eyes from the fire; stared at Mark as if he thought he had suddenly gone mad; and asked him what he meant.
‘No offence intended, sir,’ urged Mark. ‘I don’t mean to say she was any the happier without you; but I thought she was a-looking better, sir.’
‘Do you mean to tell me she has been in London?’ asked Martin, rising hurriedly, and pushing back his chair.
‘Of course I do,’ said Mark, rising too, in great amazement from the bedstead.