“Glad to have your approbation,” returned Fledgeby. “It’s a coincidence, Mr. Twemlow;” here he descended from his perch, and sauntered towards him; “that the friends I am standing by today are the friends at whose house I met you! The Lammles. She’s a very taking and agreeable woman?”

Conscience smote the gentle Twemlow pale. “Yes,” he said. “She is.”

“And when she appealed to me this morning, to come and try what I could do to pacify their creditor, this Mr. Riah⁠—that I certainly have gained some little influence with in transacting business for another friend, but nothing like so much as she supposes⁠—and when a woman like that spoke to me as her dearest Mr. Fledgeby, and shed tears⁠—why what could I do, you know?”

Twemlow gasped “Nothing but come.”