‘Oh yes, I understand you, Mr. Noggs,’ said Mrs. Nickleby. ‘Our thoughts are free, of course. Everybody’s thoughts are their own, clearly.’
‘They wouldn’t be, if some people had their way,’ muttered Newman.
‘Well, no more they would, Mr. Noggs, and that’s very true,’ rejoined Mrs Nickleby. ‘Some people to be sure are such—how’s your master?’
Newman darted a meaning glance at Kate, and replied with a strong emphasis on the last word of his answer, that Mr. Ralph Nickleby was well, and sent his love.
‘I am sure we are very much obliged to him,’ observed Mrs. Nickleby.
‘Very,’ said Newman. ‘I’ll tell him so.’
It was no very easy matter to mistake Newman Noggs, after having once seen him, and as Kate, attracted by the singularity of his manner (in which on this occasion, however, there was something respectful and even delicate, notwithstanding the abruptness of his speech), looked at him more closely, she recollected having caught a passing glimpse of that strange figure before.
‘Excuse my curiosity,’ she said, ‘but did I not see you in the coachyard, on the morning my brother went away to Yorkshire?’
Newman cast a wistful glance on Mrs. Nickleby and said ‘No,’ most unblushingly.
‘No!’ exclaimed Kate, ‘I should have said so anywhere.’