She comes of an old family though, my dear Sir; old in every sense of the word.

The founder of that family came into Kent when Julius Caesar invaded Britain;--only one member of it, since, who hasn't lived to eighty-five, and he was beheaded by one of the Henrys.

The old lady is not seventy-three now, my dear Sir.' The little man paused, and took a pinch of snuff.
'Well,' cried Mr.Jingle.
'Well, my dear sir--you don't take snuff!--ah! so much the better--expensive habit--well, my dear Sir, you're a fine young man, man of the world--able to push your fortune, if you had capital, eh ?' 'Well,' said Mr.Jingle again.
'Do you comprehend me ?' 'Not quite.' 'Don't you think--now, my dear Sir, I put it to you don't you think--that fifty pounds and liberty would be better than Miss Wardle and expectation ?' 'Won't do--not half enough!' said Mr.Jingle, rising.
'Nay, nay, my dear Sir,' remonstrated the little attorney, seizing him by the button.

'Good round sum--a man like you could treble it in no time--great deal to be done with fifty pounds, my dear Sir.' 'More to be done with a hundred and fifty,' replied Mr.Jingle coolly.
'Well, my dear Sir, we won't waste time in splitting straws,' resumed the little man, 'say--say--seventy.' 'Won't do,' said Mr.Jingle.
'Don't go away, my dear sir--pray don't hurry,' said the little man.
'Eighty; come: I'll write you a cheque at once.' 'Won't do,' said Mr.Jingle.
'Well, my dear Sir, well,' said the little man, still detaining him; 'just tell me what WILL do.' 'Expensive affair,' said Mr.Jingle.

'Money out of pocket--posting, nine pounds; licence, three--that's twelve--compensation, a hundred--hundred and twelve--breach of honour--and loss of the lady--' 'Yes, my dear Sir, yes,' said the little man, with a knowing look, 'never mind the last two items.