'Ha-hum!' These last sounds, so like those in which, as legends inform us, the ferocious giant Blunderbore was in the habit of expressing his opinion that it was time to lay the cloth, were too distinctly audible to be again mistaken for the workings of fancy.
'Gracious Heaven!' said the middle-aged lady, 'what's that ?' 'It's--it's--only a gentleman, ma'am,' said Mr.Pickwick, from behind the curtains.
'A gentleman!' said the lady, with a terrific scream.
'It's all over!' thought Mr.Pickwick.
'A strange man!' shrieked the lady.

Another instant and the house would be alarmed.

Her garments rustled as she rushed towards the door.
'Ma'am,' said Mr.Pickwick, thrusting out his head in the extremity of his desperation, 'ma'am!' Now, although Mr.Pickwick was not actuated by any definite object in putting out his head, it was instantaneously productive of a good effect.

The lady, as we have already stated, was near the door.

She must pass it, to reach the staircase, and she would most undoubtedly have done so by this time, had not the sudden apparition of Mr.Pickwick's nightcap driven her back into the remotest corner of the apartment, where she stood staring wildly at Mr.Pickwick, while Mr.Pickwick in his turn stared wildly at her.
'Wretch,' said the lady, covering her eyes with her hands, 'what do you want here ?' 'Nothing, ma'am; nothing whatever, ma'am,' said Mr.Pickwick earnestly.
'Nothing!' said the lady, looking up.
'Nothing, ma'am, upon my honour,' said Mr.Pickwick, nodding his head so energetically, that the tassel of his nightcap danced again.