‘I say, delicious,’ repeated Mr. Lillyvick. ‘Absorbing, fairy-like, toomultuous,’ and again Mr. Lillyvick drew himself up, and again he frowned and nodded.
‘Ah!’ said Nicholas, a little surprised at these symptoms of ecstatic approbation. ‘Yes—she is a clever girl.’
‘She is a divinity,’ returned Mr. Lillyvick, giving a collector’s double knock on the ground with the umbrella before-mentioned. ‘I have known divine actresses before now, sir, I used to collect—at least I used to call for—and very often call for—the water-rate at the house of a divine actress, who lived in my beat for upwards of four year but never—no, never, sir of all divine creatures, actresses or no actresses, did I see a diviner one than is Henrietta Petowker.’
Nicholas had much ado to prevent himself from laughing; not trusting himself to speak, he merely nodded in accordance with Mr. Lillyvick’s nods, and remained silent.
‘Let me speak a word with you in private,’ said Mr. Lillyvick.
Nicholas looked good-humouredly at Smike, who, taking the hint, disappeared.
‘A bachelor is a miserable wretch, sir,’ said Mr. Lillyvick.
‘Is he?’ asked Nicholas.
‘He is,’ rejoined the collector. ‘I have lived in the world for nigh sixty year, and I ought to know what it is.’
‘You ought to know, certainly,’ thought Nicholas; ‘but whether you do or not, is another question.’