“My good Mr. Copperfield!” said Tiffey, laying his hand upon my arm, and shutting up both his eyes as he shook his head: “if you had been in the Commons as long as I have, you would know that there is no subject on which men are so inconsistent, and so little to be trusted.”

“Why, bless my soul, he made that very remark!” I replied persistently.

“I should call that almost final,” observed Tiffey. “My opinion is⁠—no will.”