“Ought I, though?” said the unfortunate, with a doubtful appeal to his partner.

“You ought, Sir,” said the fat gentleman, in an awful voice.

“Very sorry,” said the crestfallen Miller.

“Much use that,” growled the fat gentleman.

“Two by honours⁠—makes us eight,” said Mr. Pickwick.

Another hand. “Can you one?” inquired the old lady.

“I can,” replied Mr. Pickwick. “Double, single, and the rub.”

“Never was such luck,” said Mr. Miller.