'And by his friends,' were her explanation, 'I mean into the hands of his sister Mrs.J.Gargery.' Them were her words; 'Mrs.J.Gargery.' She mayn't have know'd," added Joe, with an appearance of reflection, "whether it were Joe, or Jorge." My sister looked at Pumblechook: who smoothed the elbows of his wooden arm-chair, and nodded at her and at the fire, as if he had known all about it beforehand.
"And how much have you got ?" asked my sister, laughing.

Positively laughing! "What would present company say to ten pound ?" demanded Joe.
"They'd say," returned my sister, curtly, "pretty well.

Not too much, but pretty well." "It's more than that, then," said Joe.
That fearful Impostor, Pumblechook, immediately nodded, and said, as he rubbed the arms of his chair, "It's more than that, Mum." "Why, you don't mean to say--" began my sister.
"Yes I do, Mum," said Pumblechook; "but wait a bit.

Go on, Joseph.

Good in you! Go on!" "What would present company say," proceeded Joe, "to twenty pound ?" "Handsome would be the word," returned my sister.
"Well, then," said Joe, "It's more than twenty pound." That abject hypocrite, Pumblechook, nodded again, and said, with a patronizing laugh, "It's more than that, Mum.