“Oh, Ben, dear, how you do smell of tobacco,” said Arabella, rather overcome by this mark of affection.

“Do I?” said Mr. Benjamin Allen. “Do I, Bella? Well, perhaps I do.”

Perhaps he did, having just left a pleasant little smoking-party of twelve medical students, in a small back parlour with a large fire.

“But I am delighted to see you,” said Mr. Ben Allen. “Bless you, Bella!”

“There,” said Arabella, bending forward to kiss her brother; “don’t take hold of me again, Ben, dear, because you tumble me so.”

At this point of the reconciliation, Mr. Ben Allen allowed his feelings and the cigars and porter to overcome him, and looked round upon the beholders with damp spectacles.