I thought I left you up stairs,' said Devereux, with an odd sort of sulky shrinking.
'Why, Devereux, I may as well walk with you, if you don't object,' lisped Puddock.
'But I do object, Sir,' cried Devereux, suddenly, in a fierce high key, turning upon his little comrade.

'What d'ye mean, Sir?
You think I mean to--to _drown_ myself--ha, ha, ha! or what the devil's running in your head?
I'm not a madman, Sir, nor you a mad-doctor.

Go home, Sir--or go to--to where you will, Sir; only go your own way, and leave me mine.' 'Ah, Devereux, you're very quick with me,' said Puddock, placing his plump little hand on Devereux's arm, and looking very gently and gravely in his face.
Devereux laid his hand upon Puddock's collar with an agitated sort of sneer.

But he recollected himself, and that diabolical gloom faded from his face, and he looked more like himself, and slid his cold hand silently into little Puddock's; and so they stood for a while, by the door-step, to the admiration of Mrs.Irons--whom Devereux's high tones had called to her window.
'Puddock, I don't think I'm well, and I don't know quite what I've been saying.

I ask your pardon.