behind it, and as it turned upon its hinges he became visible with his hand on the lock.
“ Mr. Boffin, sir?” he remarked. “You’re quite a stranger!”
“Yes. I’ve been otherwise occupied, Wegg.”
“Have you indeed, sir?” returned the literary gentleman, with a threatening sneer. “Hah! I’ve been looking for you, sir, rather what I may call specially.”
“You don’t say so, Wegg?”
“Yes, I do say so, sir. And if you hadn’t come round to me tonight, dash my wig if I wouldn’t have come round to you tomorrow. Now! I tell you!”
“Nothing wrong, I hope, Wegg?”
“Oh no, Mr. Boffin,” was the ironical answer. “Nothing wrong! What should be wrong in Boffinses Bower! Step in, sir.”
“ ‘If you’ll come to the Bower I’ve shaded for you, Your bed shan’t be roses all spangled with doo: Will you, will you, will you, will you, come to the Bower? Oh, won’t you, won’t you, won’t you, won’t you, come to the Bower?’ ”
An unholy glare of contradiction and offence shone in the eyes of Mr. Wegg, as he turned the key on his patron, after ushering him into the yard with this vocal quotation. Mr. Boffin’s air was crestfallen and submissive. Whispered Wegg to Venus, as they crossed the yard behind him: “Look at the worm and minion; he’s down in the mouth already.” Whispered Venus to Wegg: “That’s because I’ve told him. I’ve prepared the way for you.”