They had no servant to give them aid; Manton, they could not dream of disturbing.

And Tasso's character was in the estimate; he hated washing; it balefully depraved his temper; and not only, creature of habit that he was, would he decline to lie down anywhere save in their bedroom, he would lament, plead, insist unremittingly, if excluded; terrifying every poor invalid of the house.

Then again, were they at this late hour to dress themselves, and take him downstairs, and light a fire in the kitchen, and boil sufficient water to give him a bath and scrubbing?
Cold water would be death to him.

Besides, he would ring out his alarum for the house to hear, pour out all his poetry, poor dear, as Mr.Posterley called it, at a touch of cold water.

The catastrophe was one to weep over, the dilemma a trial of the strongest intelligences.
In addition to reviews of their solitary alternative-the having of a befouled degraded little dog in their chamber through the night, they were subjected to a conflict of emotions when eyeing him: and there came to them the painful, perhaps irreverent, perhaps uncharitable, thought:--that the sinner who has rolled in the abominable, must cleanse him and do things to polish him and perfume before again embraced even by the mind: if indeed we can ever have our old sentiment for him again! Mr.Stuart Rem might decide it for them.