“I don’t give myself the trouble of thinking at all about you,” said Steerforth, coolly; “so I’m not mistaken, as it happens.”

“And when you make use of your position of favouritism here, sir,” pursued Mr. Mell, with his lip trembling very much, “to insult a gentleman⁠—”

“A what?⁠—where is he?” said Steerforth.

Here somebody cried out, “Shame, J. Steerforth! Too bad!” It was Traddles; whom Mr. Mell instantly discomfited by bidding him hold his tongue.