Unwilling to hazard another quarrel, Mr. Pickwick gladly assented to the proposition, and consigned the money to Mr. Mivins, who, as it was nearly eleven o’clock, lost no time in repairing to the coffee-room on his errand.

“I say,” whispered Smangle, the moment his friend had left the room; “what did you give him?”

“Half a sovereign,” said Mr. Pickwick.

“He’s a devilish pleasant gentlemanly dog,” said Mr. Smangle;⁠—“infernal pleasant. I don’t know anybody more so; but⁠—” Here Mr. Smangle stopped short, and shook his head dubiously.