“⁠—Hear me out!” said Wegg. (He tried to reserve whatever he could, and, whenever disclosure was forced upon him, broke into a radiant gush of Hear me out.) “On a certain day, sir⁠—”

“When?” said Venus bluntly.

“N⁠—no,” returned Wegg, shaking his head at once observantly, thoughtfully, and playfully. “No, sir! That’s not your expressive countenance which asks that question. That’s your voice; merely your voice. To proceed. On a certain day, sir, I happened to be walking in the yard⁠—taking my lonely round⁠—for in the words of a friend of my own family, the author of All’s Well arranged as a duet: