So, Mr Ralph Nickleby shrugged his shoulders, and said things were better as they were.
As for Nicholas, he lived a single man on the patrimonial estate until he grew tired of living alone, and then he took to wife the daughter of a neighbouring gentleman with a dower of one thousand pounds.

This good lady bore him two children, a son and a daughter, and when the son was about nineteen, and the daughter fourteen, as near as we can guess--impartial records of young ladies' ages being, before the passing of the new act, nowhere preserved in the registries of this country--Mr Nickleby looked about him for the means of repairing his capital, now sadly reduced by this increase in his family, and the expenses of their education.
'Speculate with it,' said Mrs Nickleby.
'Spec--u--late, my dear ?' said Mr Nickleby, as though in doubt.
'Why not ?' asked Mrs Nickleby.
'Because, my dear, if we SHOULD lose it,' rejoined Mr Nickleby, who was a slow and time-taking speaker, 'if we SHOULD lose it, we shall no longer be able to live, my dear.' 'Fiddle,' said Mrs Nickleby.
'I am not altogether sure of that, my dear,' said Mr Nickleby.
'There's Nicholas,' pursued the lady, 'quite a young man--it's time he was in the way of doing something for himself; and Kate too, poor girl, without a penny in the world.

Think of your brother! Would he be what he is, if he hadn't speculated ?' 'That's true,' replied Mr Nickleby.

'Very good, my dear.Yes.I WILL speculate, my dear.' Speculation is a round game; the players see little or nothing of their cards at first starting; gains MAY be great--and so may losses.

The run of luck went against Mr Nickleby.