“Well, sir,” said Dodson, “and what do you propose?”
“Ah!” said Fogg, thrusting his hands into his trousers pockets and throwing himself back in his chair, “what do you propose, Mr. Pickwick?”
“Hush, Fogg,” said Dodson, “let me hear what Mr. Pickwick has to say.”
“I came, gentlemen,” said Mr. Pickwick, gazing placidly on the two partners, “I came here, gentlemen, to express the surprise with which I received your letter of the other day, and to inquire what grounds of action you can have against me.”
“Grounds of—” Fogg had ejaculated thus much, when he was stopped by Dodson.
“Mr. Fogg,” said Dodson, “I am going to speak.”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Dodson,” said Fogg.
“For the grounds of action, sir,” continued Dodson, with moral elevation in his air, “you will consult your own conscience and your own feelings. We, sir, we, are guided entirely by the statement of our client. That statement, sir, may be true, or it may be false; it may be credible, or it may be incredible; but, if it be true, and if it be credible, I do not hesitate to say, sir, that our grounds of action, sir, are strong, and not to be shaken. You may be an unfortunate man, sir, or you may be a designing one; but if I were called upon, as a juryman upon my oath, sir, to express my opinion of your conduct, sir, I do not hesitate to assert that I should have but one opinion about it.” Here Dodson drew himself up, with an air of offended virtue, and looked at Fogg, who thrust his hands further in his pockets, and, nodding his head sagely, said, in a tone of the fullest concurrence, “Most certainly.”
“Well, sir,” said Mr. Pickwick, with considerable pain depicted in his countenance, “you will permit me to assure you, that I am a most unfortunate man, so far as this case is concerned.”