“Nay, nay, my dear sir,” remonstrated the little attorney, seizing him by the button. “Good round sum—a man like you could treble it in no time—great deal to be done with fifty pounds, my dear sir.”
“More to be done with a hundred and fifty,” replied Mr. Jingle, coolly.
“Well, my dear sir, we won’t waste time in splitting straws,” resumed the little man, “say—say—seventy.”
“Won’t do,” said Mr. Jingle.
“Don’t go away, my dear sir—pray don’t hurry,” said the little man. “Eighty; come: I’ll write you a cheque at once.”
“Won’t do,” said Mr. Jingle.
“Well, my dear sir, well,” said the little man, still detaining him; “just tell me what will do.”
“Expensive affair,” said Mr. Jingle. “Money out of pocket—posting, nine pounds; licence, three—that’s twelve—compensation, a hundred—hundred and twelve—Breach of honour—and loss of the lady——”
“Yes, my dear sir, yes,” said the little man, with a knowing look, “never mind the last two items. That’s a hundred and twelve—say a hundred—come.”