‘Do you know who I am?’ asked Ralph.
‘Oh yes, I know you very well; too well, perhaps, and perhaps he does too, and sorry am I that I should have to say it.’
‘Tell him that I saw him through the window-blind above, as I crossed the road just now, and that I would speak to him on business,’ said Ralph. ‘Do you hear?’
‘I hear,’ rejoined Mrs. Snawley, taking no further notice of the request.
‘I knew this woman was a hypocrite, in the way of psalms and Scripture phrases,’ said Ralph, passing quietly by, ‘but I never knew she drank before.’
‘Stop! You don’t come in here,’ said Mr. Snawley’s better-half, interposing her person, which was a robust one, in the doorway. ‘You have said more than enough to him on business, before now. I always told him what dealing with you and working out your schemes would come to. It was either you or the schoolmaster—one of you, or the two between you—that got the forged letter done; remember that! That wasn’t his doing, so don’t lay it at his door.’
‘Hold your tongue, you Jezebel,’ said Ralph, looking fearfully round.
‘Ah, I know when to hold my tongue, and when to speak, Mr. Nickleby,’ retorted the dame. ‘Take care that other people know when to hold theirs.’
‘You jade,’ said Ralph, ‘if your husband has been idiot enough to trust you with his secrets, keep them; keep them, she-devil that you are!’
‘Not so much his secrets as other people’s secrets, perhaps,’ retorted the woman; ‘not so much his secrets as yours. None of your black looks at me! You’ll want ‘em all, perhaps, for another time. You had better keep ‘em.’