The disconcerted young man bows, as he goes out, and cringingly hopes that Mr. Tulkinghorn of the Fields is well.

“Aye, aye?” says the lawyer, looking at him from under his bent brows, though he has no need to look again⁠—not he. “From Kenge and Carboy’s, surely?”

“Kenge and Carboy’s, Mr. Tulkinghorn. Name of Guppy, sir.”

“To be sure. Why, thank you, Mr. Guppy, I am very well!”

“Happy to hear it, sir. You can’t be too well, sir, for the credit of the profession.”

“Thank you, Mr. Guppy!”