"He ought to be pretty chirpy, I should think," said Jack.
"Chirpy! That's the word. 'Chirpy' describes me. So does 'fit.' The money is rolling in, gentlemen. Business is on the full upward boom, and I feel particularly 'fit' to-day—also chirpy."
"Got a partnership?" inquired Geoffrey, with interest.
"I suppose you mean a partnership with Mr. Bean, and I answer emphatically 'No.' I refer to my own business, sir, and I have no intention of taking Mr. Bean into partnership. Bean is dying for a partnership with me. Sha'n't take Bean in. A client of mine came in to-day—"
"Great Scott! you haven't got a client, have you?" cried Geoffrey, starting from his chair.
"Don't interrupt me," said Mr. Rankin. "As I was saying," he added with composure, "a client of mine—"
"No, no, Morry! This is too much. If you want us to believe you, give us some particulars about this client—just as an evidence of good faith, you know."
"The client you are so inquisitive about," said Rankin, with dignity, "is a lady who has been, in a sense, prematurely widowed—"
"It's Mrs. Priest," said Jack, turning to Geoffrey. "He has been defending her for stealing coal, sure as you're born!"
"The lady came to me," said Maurice, taking no notice of the interruption, "about a month ago, apparently with a view to taking proceedings for alimony—at least her statement suggested this—"