The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 378: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE SPONGING - HOUSE 361 me, I say, all that took place between you and the man who keeps me here.”’ ‘ Well, I will,’ said Mrs. Emmerson. “ I found him in his counting-house, and told him who I was. His looks imme- diately became quite glum, and his manner as stiff as possible. I said I wanted to speak to him very particular. I then told him you had exactly eighteen hundred and fity guineas, which you would give him to let you out; U not, you meant to become bankrupt at once and give the money up to all your creditors, so that there wouldn’t be two shillings in the pound.” “And what did he say then? How did he look?” de- manded Emmerson, eagerly. ‘* Did it seem to touch him? I am sure he must have unbent a little. Tell me, did he not unbend?’”’ and the wretched man, in his soul’s writhings, was thus straining madly to catch at the shghtest straw of — hope in his sinking desperation. “No, I can’t say that he did,’’ replied his wife, who, entertaining not the least affection for her husband, did not think it necessary to invent a consolation which existed not. ‘Ah! he did not unbend, then? But did he seem to be- lieve you? ” ‘It’s difficult to say, because he looked so cold and stiff,’’ “Well, then, what on earth did he say? ”’ ‘“ He appeared to consider for about a minute; then he opened a great book, turned to the letter E, ran his finger down a column, and stopping at a particular place, said that you owed him three thousand four hundred guineas, besides the expenses, and that before he gave any decision he must: consult a friend.” “Ah! a friend,’’ muttered Emmerson, between his set teeth, as his thoughts fixed themselves on Varian, ‘‘ a friend perhaps to him, but a bitter, unrelenting foe to me!’’ Then again turning to his wife, he said, aloud, ‘‘ Well, what next? ”’ ‘“ Nothing more, only that he would let you know in the course of the day, and then he opened the door for me to go out. So as I was coming along, I thought to myself that all this was a Judgment on you for having let yourself be made a fool of by the West End countesses, and spending your money on such-like great ladies, who are no better than they should be, for it’s no secret that the Earl of Curzon’s CORNICLOOL <S (C(O) im