His ruminations, therefore, were rather confused, but, perhaps, they might be translated in substance, into something like this-- 'Why the -- -- can't he let them alone that's willing to let him alone?
I wish he was in his own fiery home, and better people at rest.

I _can't_ mark them places--I don't know whether I'm on my head or heels.' And he smacked the quarto Prayer-book down upon the folio Bible with a sonorous bang, and glided out, furious, frightened, and taciturn, to the Salmon House.
He came upon Dangerfield again only half-a-dozen steps from the turn into the street.

He had just dismissed Martin, and was looking into a note in his pocket-book, and either did not see, or pretended not to see, the clerk.

But some one else saw and recognised Mr.Irons; and, as he passed, directed upon him a quick, searching glance.

It was Mr.
Mervyn, who happened to pass that way.