“Well, my dear Sir, well,” said the little man, still detaining him; “just tell me what will do.”

“Expensive affair,” said Mr. Jingle. “Money out of pocket⁠—posting, nine pounds; licence, three⁠—that’s twelve⁠—compensation, a hundred⁠—hundred and twelve⁠—breach of honour⁠—and loss of the lady⁠—”

“Yes, my dear Sir, yes,” said the little man, with a knowing look, “never mind the last two items. That’s a hundred and twelve⁠—say a hundred⁠—come.”

“And twenty,” said Mr. Jingle.

“Come, come, I’ll write you a cheque,” said the little man; and down he sat at the table for that purpose.