“I’ve been a-thinking,” said Mr. Boffin, in a tone of despondency, “that I must keep the knowledge from my old lady.”
“The knowledge of the diwision, d’ye mean?” inquired Wegg, helping himself to a third Gum-Tickler—for he had already taken a second.
“Yes. If she was to die first of us two she might then think all her life, poor thing, that I had got the rest of the fortune still, and was saving it.”
“I suspect, Boffin,” returned Wegg, shaking his head sagaciously, and bestowing a wooden wink upon him, “that you’ve found out some account of some old chap, supposed to be a Miser, who got himself the credit of having much more money than he had. However, I don’t mind.”
“Don’t you see, Wegg?” Mr. Boffin feelingly represented to him: “don’t you see? My old lady has got so used to the property. It would be such a hard surprise.”
“I don’t see it at all,” blustered Wegg. “You’ll have as