‘I have no intention of removing from it,’ was Martin’s answer.
‘Then why,’ said Mr Pecksniff, taking the old man’s arm in his, and walking slowly on; ‘Why, my good sir, can’t you come and stay with me? I am sure I could surround you with more comforts—lowly as is my Cot—than you can obtain at a village house of entertainment. And pardon me, Mr Chuzzlewit, pardon me if I say that such a place as the Dragon, however well-conducted (and, as far as I know, Mrs Lupin is one of the worthiest creatures in this county), is hardly a home for Miss Graham.’
Martin mused a moment; and then said, as he shook him by the hand:
‘No. You’re quite right; it is not.’
‘The very sight of skittles,’ Mr Pecksniff eloquently pursued, ‘is far from being congenial to a delicate mind.’
‘It’s an amusement of the vulgar,’ said old Martin, ‘certainly.’
‘Of the very vulgar,’ Mr Pecksniff answered. ‘Then why not bring Miss Graham here, sir? Here is the house. Here am I alone in it, for Thomas Pinch I do not count as any one. Our lovely friend shall occupy my daughter’s chamber; you shall choose your own; we shall not quarrel, I hope!’
‘We are not likely to do that,’ said Martin.
Mr Pecksniff pressed his hand. ‘We understand each other, my dear sir, I see!—I can wind him,’ he thought, with exultation, ‘round my little finger.’
‘You leave the recompense to me?’ said the old man, after a minute’s silence.