“Glad of it,” said Dowler. “I woke this morning. I had forgotten my threat. I laughed at the accident. I felt friendly. I said so.”

“To whom?” inquired Mr. Winkle.

“To Mrs. Dowler. ‘You made a vow,’ said she. ‘I did,’ said I. ‘It was a rash one,’ said she. ‘It was,’ said I. ‘I’ll apologise. Where is he?’ ”

“Who?” inquired Mr. Winkle.

“You,” replied Dowler. “I went downstairs. You were not to be found. Pickwick looked gloomy. Shook his head. Hoped no violence would be committed. I saw it all. You felt yourself insulted. You had gone, for a friend perhaps. Possibly for pistols. ‘High spirit,’ said I. ‘I admire him.’ ”