Young Bullock did not come grinning out of the parlour with him as had been his wont in former years.
And as the swinging doors of Hulker, Bullock & Co.

closed upon Mr.
Sedley, Mr.Quill, the cashier (whose benevolent occupation it is to hand out crisp bank-notes from a drawer and dispense sovereigns out of a copper shovel), winked at Mr.Driver, the clerk at the desk on his right.

Mr.Driver winked again.
"No go," Mr.D.whispered.
"Not at no price," Mr.Q.said.

"Mr.George Osborne, sir, how will you take it ?" George crammed eagerly a quantity of notes into his pockets, and paid Dobbin fifty pounds that very evening at mess.
That very evening Amelia wrote him the tenderest of long letters.

Her heart was overflowing with tenderness, but it still foreboded evil.
What was the cause of Mr.Osborne's dark looks?
she asked.