“Possibly not, Sir,” replied Mr. Pickwick, who had been flashing forth looks of fierce indignation, without producing the smallest effect on either of the sharp practitioners; “I believe I am not, Sir. I have been persecuted and annoyed by scoundrels of late, Sir.”

Perker coughed violently, and asked Mr. Pickwick whether he wouldn’t like to look at the morning paper. To which inquiry Mr. Pickwick returned a most decided negative.

“True,” said Dodson, “I dare say you have been annoyed in the Fleet; there are some odd gentry there. Whereabouts were your apartments, Mr. Pickwick?”

“My one room,” replied that much-injured gentleman, “was on the coffee-room flight.”