Now, whether she was in her laughing joy, or in her crying one, the Marchioness could not help turning to the visitors with an appealing look, which seemed to say, 'You see this fellow--can I help this ?'--and they, being thus made, as it were, parties to the scene, as regularly answered by another look, 'No.

Certainly not.' This dumb-show, taking place during the whole time of the invalid's breakfast, and the invalid himself, pale and emaciated, performing no small part in the same, it may be fairly questioned whether at any meal, where no word, good or bad, was spoken from beginning to end, so much was expressed by gestures in themselves so slight and unimportant.
At length--and to say the truth before very long--Mr Swiveller had despatched as much toast and tea as in that stage of his recovery it was discreet to let him have.

But the cares of the Marchioness did not stop here; for, disappearing for an instant and presently returning with a basin of fair water, she laved his face and hands, brushed his hair, and in short made him as spruce and smart as anybody under such circumstances could be made; and all this, in as brisk and business-like a manner, as if he were a very little boy, and she his grown-up nurse.

To these various attentions, Mr Swiveller submitted in a kind of grateful astonishment beyond the reach of language.

When they were at last brought to an end, and the Marchioness had withdrawn into a distant corner to take her own poor breakfast (cold enough by that time), he turned his face away for some few moments, and shook hands heartily with the air.
'Gentlemen,' said Dick, rousing himself from this pause, and turning round again, 'you'll excuse me.