‘Don’t say, the truth,’ interposed Tigg, with another grin. ‘It’s so like humbug.’
Greatly charmed by this, Jonas began again.
‘The long and the short of it is—’
‘Better,’ muttered Tigg. ‘Much better!’
‘—That I didn’t consider myself very well used by one or two of the old companies in some negotiations I have had with ‘em—once had, I mean. They started objections they had no right to start, and put questions they had no right to put, and carried things much too high for my taste.’
As he made these observations he cast down his eyes, and looked curiously at the carpet. Mr Tigg looked curiously at him.
He made so long a pause, that Tigg came to the rescue, and said, in his pleasantest manner:
‘Take a glass of wine.’
‘No, no,’ returned Jonas, with a cunning shake of the head; ‘none of that, thankee. No wine over business. All very well for you, but it wouldn’t do for me.’
‘What an old hand you are, Mr Chuzzlewit!’ said Tigg, leaning back in his chair, and leering at him through his half-shut eyes.