head at him in the oddest manner, as if he were compelled against

his will to add, internally, “You know there really is so much too

much of you!”

“Well!” said Stryver, slapping the desk with his contentious

hand, opening his eyes wider, and taking a long breath, “if I

understand you, Mr. Lorry, I’ll be hanged!”

Mr. Lorry adjusted his little wig at both ears as a means

towards that end, and bit the feather of a pen.

“Dn it all, sir!” said Stryver, staring at him, “am I not

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

eligible?”

“Oh dear yes! Yes. Oh yes, you’re eligible!” said Mr. Lorry. “If

you say eligible, you are eligible.”

“Am I not prosperous?” asked Stryver.

“Oh! if you come to prosperous, you are prosperous,” said Mr.

Lorry.

“And advancing?”

“If you come to advancing, you know,” said Mr. Lorry,

delighted to be able to make another admission, “nobody can

doubt that.”

“Then what on earth is your meaning, Mr. Lorry?” demanded

Stryver, perceptibly crestfallen.

“Well! IWere you going there now?” asked Mr. Lorry.

“Straight!” said Stryver, with a plump of his fist on the desk.

“Then I think I wouldn’t, if I was you.”

“Why,” said Stryver. “Now, I’ll put you in a corner,” forensically

shaking a forefinger at him. “You are a man of business and bound

to have a reason. State your reason. Why wouldn’t