‘Oh, ho!’ thought that knowing lady; ‘wine in, truth out.—You are very kind, Sir Mulberry.’
‘No, no upon my soul!’ replied Sir Mulberry Hawk. ‘It’s you that’s kind, upon my soul it is. It was so kind of you to come tonight.’
‘So very kind of you to invite me, you mean, Sir Mulberry,’ replied Mrs Nickleby, tossing her head, and looking prodigiously sly.
‘I am so anxious to know you, so anxious to cultivate your good opinion, so desirous that there should be a delicious kind of harmonious family understanding between us,’ said Sir Mulberry, ‘that you mustn’t think I’m disinterested in what I do. I’m infernal selfish; I am—upon my soul I am.’
‘I am sure you can’t be selfish, Sir Mulberry!’ replied Mrs. Nickleby. ‘You have much too open and generous a countenance for that.’
‘What an extraordinary observer you are!’ said Sir Mulberry Hawk.
‘Oh no, indeed, I don’t see very far into things, Sir Mulberry,’ replied Mrs. Nickleby, in a tone of voice which left the baronet to infer that she saw very far indeed.
‘I am quite afraid of you,’ said the baronet. ‘Upon my soul,’ repeated Sir Mulberry, looking round to his companions; ‘I am afraid of Mrs. Nickleby. She is so immensely sharp.’
Messrs Pyke and Pluck shook their heads mysteriously, and observed together that they had found that out long ago; upon which Mrs. Nickleby tittered, and Sir Mulberry laughed, and Pyke and Pluck roared.
‘But where’s my brother-in-law, Sir Mulberry?’ inquired Mrs. Nickleby. ‘I shouldn’t be here without him. I hope he’s coming.’