Ho!' He illustrated these melodramatic morsels by handing the tankard to himself with great humility, receiving it haughtily, drinking from it thirstily, and smacking his lips fiercely.
The small servant, who was not so well acquainted with theatrical conventionalities as Mr Swiveller (having indeed never seen a play, or heard one spoken of, except by chance through chinks of doors and in other forbidden places), was rather alarmed by demonstrations so novel in their nature, and showed her concern so plainly in her looks, that Mr Swiveller felt it necessary to discharge his brigand manner for one more suitable to private life, as he asked, 'Do they often go where glory waits 'em, and leave you here ?' 'Oh, yes; I believe you they do,' returned the small servant.

'Miss Sally's such a one-er for that, she is.' 'Such a what ?' said Dick.
'Such a one-er,' returned the Marchioness.
After a moment's reflection, Mr Swiveller determined to forego his responsible duty of setting her right, and to suffer her to talk on; as it was evident that her tongue was loosened by the purl, and her opportunities for conversation were not so frequent as to render a momentary check of little consequence.
'They sometimes go to see Mr Quilp,' said the small servant with a shrewd look; 'they go to a many places, bless you!' 'Is Mr Brass a wunner ?' said Dick.
'Not half what Miss Sally is, he isn't,' replied the small servant, shaking her head.

'Bless you, he'd never do anything without her.' 'Oh! He wouldn't, wouldn't he ?' said Dick.
'Miss Sally keeps him in such order,' said the small servant; 'he always asks her advice, he does; and he catches it sometimes.

Bless you, you wouldn't believe how much he catches it.' 'I suppose,' said Dick, 'that they consult together, a good deal, and talk about a great many people--about me for instance, sometimes, eh, Marchioness ?' The Marchioness nodded amazingly.
'Complimentary ?' said Mr Swiveller.
The Marchioness changed the motion of her head, which had not yet left off nodding, and suddenly began to shake it from side to side, with a vehemence which threatened to dislocate her neck.
'Humph!' Dick muttered.

'Would it be any breach of confidence, Marchioness, to relate what they say of the humble individual who has now the honour to-- ?' 'Miss Sally says you're a funny chap,' replied his friend.
'Well, Marchioness,' said Mr Swiveller, 'that's not uncomplimentary.
Merriment, Marchioness, is not a bad or a degrading quality.