"That," said the middle-aged lady, rising from her seat, and averting her head, "that I would not reveal for worlds."
"I understand you, ma'am," said Mr. Pickwick, "and respect your delicacy; it shall never be revealed by me, depend upon it."
"Upon my word, ma'am," said Mr. Magnus, "considering the situation in which I am placed with regard to yourself, you carry this matter off with tolerable coolness-tolerable coolness, ma'am."
"Cruel Mr. Magnus!" said the middle-aged lady; here she wept very copiously indeed.
"Address your observations to me, sir," interposed Mr. Pickwick; "I alone am to blame, if anybody be."
"Oh! you alone are to blame, are you, sir?" said Mr. Magnus; "I—I—see through this, sir. You repent of your determination now, do you?"
"My determination!" said Mr. Pickwick.
"Your determination, sir. Oh! don't stare at me, sir," said Mr. Magnus; "I recollect your words last night, sir. You came down here, sir, to expose the treachery and falsehood of an individual on whose truth and honour you had placed implicit reliance—eh?" Here Mr. Peter Magnus indulged in a prolonged sneer; and taking off his green spectacles—which he probably found superfluous in his fit of jealousy—rolled his little eyes about, in a manner frightful to behold.
"Eh?" said Mr. Magnus; and then he repeated the sneer with increased effect. "But you shall answer it, sir."
"Answer what?" said Mr. Pickwick.
"Never mind, sir," replied Mr. Magnus, striding up and down the room. "Never mind."
There must be something very comprehensive in this phrase of "Never mind," for we do not recollect to have ever witnessed a quarrel in the street, at a theatre, public room, or elsewhere, in which it has not been the standard reply to all belligerent inquiries. "Do you call yourself a gentleman,
