By slow degrees he resumed his sitting posture after that lapse of time, and inquired: 'And where do you live, Marchioness ?' 'Live!' cried the small servant.

'Here!' 'Oh!' said Mr Swiveller.
And with that he fell down flat again, as suddenly as if he had been shot.

Thus he remained, motionless and bereft of speech, until she had finished her meal, put everything in its place, and swept the hearth; when he motioned her to bring a chair to the bedside, and, being propped up again, opened a farther conversation.
'And so,' said Dick, 'you have run away ?' 'Yes,' said the Marchioness, 'and they've been a tizing of me.' 'Been--I beg your pardon,' said Dick--'what have they been doing ?' 'Been a tizing of me--tizing you know--in the newspapers,' rejoined the Marchioness.
'Aye, aye,' said Dick, 'advertising ?' The small servant nodded, and winked.

Her eyes were so red with waking and crying, that the Tragic Muse might have winked with greater consistency.

And so Dick felt.
'Tell me,' said he, 'how it was that you thought of coming here.' 'Why, you see,' returned the Marchioness, 'when you was gone, I hadn't any friend at all, because the lodger he never come back, and I didn't know where either him or you was to be found, you know.