I'm glad to see you.

I've been _tete-a-tete_ with my shadow--cursed bad company, Puddock.

Where's Cluffe ?' 'Gone home, I believe.' 'So much the better.

You know Cluffe better than I, and there's a secret about him I never could find out.

_You_ have, maybe ?' 'What's that ?' lisped Puddock.
'What the deuce Cluffe's good for.' 'Oh! tut! We all know Cluffe's a very good fellow.' Devereux looked from under his finely pencilled brows with a sad sort of smile at good little Puddock.
'Puddock,' says he, 'I'd like to have you write my epitaph.
Puddock looked at him with his round eyes a little puzzled, and then he said-- 'You think, maybe, I've a turn for making verses; and you think also I like you, and there you're quite right.' Devereux laughed, but kindly, and shook the fat little hand he proffered.
'I wish I were like you, Puddock.