What d'ye think of it, now you know it ?" "I am really no connoisseur in surnames," answered Jekyl: "and it is quite the same to me whether you call yourself Touchwood or Touchstone.
Don't let me keep you from walking on, sir.

You will find breakfast far advanced at the Well, sir, and your walk has probably given you an appetite." "Which will serve me to luncheon-time, I promise you," said Touchwood; "I always drink my coffee as soon as my feet are in my pabouches--it's the way all over the East.

Never trust my breakfast to their scalding milk-and-water at the Well, I assure you; and for walking slow, I have had a touch of the gout." "Have you," said Jekyl; "I am sorry for that; because, if you have no mind to breakfast, I have--and so, Mr.Touchstone, good-morrow to you." But, although the young soldier went off at double quick time, his pertinacious attendant kept close by his side, displaying an activity which seemed inconsistent with his make and his years, and talking away the whole time, so as to show that his lungs were not in the least degree incommoded by the unusual rapidity of motion.
"Nay, young gentleman, if you are for a good smart walk, I am for you, and the gout may be d--d.

You are a lucky fellow to have youth on your side; but yet, so far as between the Aultoun and the Well, I think I could walk you for your sum, barring running--all heel and toe--equal weight, and I would match Barclay himself for a mile." "Upon my word, you are a gay old gentleman!" said Jekyl, relaxing his pace; "and if we must be fellow-travellers, though I can see no great occasion for it, I must even shorten sail for you." So saying, and as if another means of deliverance had occurred to him, he slackened his pace, took out a morocco case of cigars, and, lighting one with his _briquet_, said, while he walked on, and bestowed as much of its fragrance as he could upon the face of his intrusive companion, "Vergeben sie, mein herr--ich bin erzogen in kaiserlicher dienst--muss rauchen ein kleine wenig."[II-6] "Rauchen sie immer fort," said Touchwood, producing a huge meerschaum, which, suspended by a chain from his neck, lurked in the bosom of his coat, "habe auch mein pfeichen--Sehen sie den lieben topf!"[II-7] and he began to return the smoke, if not the fire, of his companion, in full volumes, and with interest.
"The devil take the twaddle," said Jekyl to himself, "he is too old and too fat to be treated after the manner of Professor Jackson; and, on my life, I cannot tell what to make of him .-- He is a residenter too--I must tip him the cold shoulder, or he will be pestering me eternally." Accordingly, he walked on, sucking his cigar, and apparently in as abstracted a mood as Mr.Cargill himself, without paying the least attention to Touchwood, who, nevertheless, continued talking, as if he had been addressing the most attentive listener in Scotland, whether it were the favourite nephew of a cross, old, rich bachelor, or the aid-de-camp of some old rusty firelock of a general, who tells stories of the American war.
"And so, sir, I can put up with any companion at a pinch, for I have travelled in all sorts of ways, from a caravan down to a carrier's cart; but the best society is the best every where; and I am happy I have fallen in with a gentleman who suits me so well as you .-- That grave, steady attention of yours reminds me of Elfi Bey--you might talk to him in English, or any thing he understood least of--you might have read Aristotle to Elfi, and not a muscle would he stir--give him his pipe, and he would sit on his cushion with a listening air as if he took in every word of what you said." Captain Jekyl threw away the remnant of his cigar, with a little movement of pettishness, and began to whistle an opera air.
"There again, now!--That is just so like the Marquis of Roccombole, another dear friend of mine, that whistles all the time you talk to him--He says he learned it in the Reign of Terror, when a man was glad to whistle to show his throat was whole.

And, talking of great folk, what do you think of this affair between Lord Etherington and his brother, or cousin, as some folk call him ?" Jekyl absolutely started at the question; a degree of emotion, which, had it been witnessed by any of his fashionable friends, would for ever have ruined his pretensions to rank in the first order.
"What affair ?" he asked, so soon as he could command a certain degree of composure.
"Why, you know the news surely?
Francis Tyrrel, whom all the company voted a coward the other day, turns out as brave a fellow as any of us; for, instead of having run away to avoid having his own throat cut by Sir Bingo Binks, he was at the very moment engaged in a gallant attempt to murder his elder brother, or his more lawful brother, or his cousin, or some such near relation." "I believe you are misinformed, sir," said Jekyl dryly, and then resumed, as deftly as he could, his proper character of a pococurante.
"I am told," continued Touchwood, "one Jekyl acted as a second to them both on the occasion--a proper fellow, sir--one of those fine gentlemen whom we pay for polishing the pavement in Bond Street, and looking at a thick shoe and a pair of worsted stockings, as if the wearer were none of their paymasters.