I hope," I think I added, without very well knowing what I said, "that you will now go away as if you had never been so exceedingly foolish and attend to Messrs.

Kenge and Carboy's business." "Half a minute, miss!" cried Mr.Guppy, checking me as I was about to ring.

"This has been without prejudice ?" "I will never mention it," said I, "unless you should give me future occasion to do so." "A quarter of a minute, miss! In case you should think better at any time, however distant--THAT'S no consequence, for my feelings can never alter--of anything I have said, particularly what might I not do, Mr.William Guppy, eighty-seven, Penton Place, or if removed, or dead (of blighted hopes or anything of that sort), care of Mrs.
Guppy, three hundred and two, Old Street Road, will be sufficient." I rang the bell, the servant came, and Mr.Guppy, laying his written card upon the table and making a dejected bow, departed.

Raising my eyes as he went out, I once more saw him looking at me after he had passed the door.
I sat there for another hour or more, finishing my books and payments and getting through plenty of business.

Then I arranged my desk, and put everything away, and was so composed and cheerful that I thought I had quite dismissed this unexpected incident.