If I had not been curious (after what Mr.Hethcote had told me) to see Mrs.Farnaby and her niece, I should certainly have slipped out of the engagement.

As it was, I promised to dine with Oily-Whiskers.
He put his hand into mine at parting.

It felt as moistly cold as a dead fish.

After getting out again into the street, I turned into the first tavern I passed, and ordered a drink.

Shall I tell you what else I did?
I went into the lavatory, and washed Mr.Farnaby off my hand.