Then he underwent a relapse, and becoming powerless again, rested his chin upon his hand, and opened his eyes so wide, that it appeared quite out of the question that he could ever close them any more.
When he had looked so long that he could see nothing, Dick took his eyes off the fair object of his amazement, turned over the leaves of the draft he was to copy, dipped his pen into the inkstand, and at last, and by slow approaches, began to write.

But he had not written half-a-dozen words when, reaching over to the inkstand to take a fresh dip, he happened to raise his eyes.

There was the intolerable brown head-dress--there was the green gown--there, in short, was Miss Sally Brass, arrayed in all her charms, and more tremendous than ever.
This happened so often, that Mr Swiveller by degrees began to feel strange influences creeping over him--horrible desires to annihilate this Sally Brass--mysterious promptings to knock her head-dress off and try how she looked without it.

There was a very large ruler on the table; a large, black, shining ruler.

Mr Swiveller took it up and began to rub his nose with it.
From rubbing his nose with the ruler, to poising it in his hand and giving it an occasional flourish after the tomahawk manner, the transition was easy and natural.