Thus it had come about, that Mr. Twemlow had said to himself in his lodgings, with his hand to his forehead: “I must not think of this. This is enough to soften any man’s brain,”—and yet was always thinking of it, and could never form a conclusion.
This evening the Veneerings give a banquet. Eleven leaves in the Twemlow; fourteen in company all told. Four pigeon-breasted retainers in plain clothes stand in line in the hall. A fifth retainer, proceeding up the staircase with a mournful air—as who should say, “Here is another wretched creature come to dinner; such is life!”—announces, “Mis‑ter Twemlow!”
Mrs. Veneering welcomes her sweet Mr. Twemlow. Mr. Veneering welcomes his dear Twemlow. Mrs. Veneering does not expect that Mr. Twemlow can in nature care much for such insipid things as babies, but so old a friend must please to look at baby. “Ah! You will know the friend of your family better, Tootleums,” says Mr. Veneering, nodding emotionally at that new article, “when you begin to take notice.” He then begs to make his dear Twemlow known to his two friends, Mr. Boots and Mr. Brewer—and clearly has no distinct idea which is which.
But now a fearful circumstance occurs.
“Mis‑ter and Miss‑us Podsnap!”
“My dear,” says Mr. Veneering to Mrs. Veneering, with an air of much friendly interest, while the door stands open, “the Podsnaps.”
A too, too smiling large man, with a fatal freshness on him, appearing with his wife, instantly deserts his wife and darts at Twemlow with:
“How do you do? So glad to know you. Charming house you have here. I hope we are not late. So glad of the opportunity, I am sure!”
When the first shock fell upon him, Twemlow twice skipped back in his neat little shoes and his neat little silk stockings of a bygone fashion,