“My dear friend,” said Mr. Ben Allen, taking advantage of Mr. Bob Sawyer’s temporary absence behind the counter, whither he had retired to dispense some of the secondhand leeches, previously referred to; “my dear friend, I am very miserable.”

Mr. Winkle professed his heartfelt regret to hear it, and begged to know whether he could do anything to alleviate the sorrows of the suffering student.

“Nothing, my dear boy, nothing,” said Ben. “You recollect Arabella, Winkle? My sister Arabella⁠—a little girl, Winkle, with black eyes⁠—when we were down at Wardle’s? I don’t know whether you happened to notice her⁠—a nice little girl, Winkle. Perhaps my features may recall her countenance to your recollection?”