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The great fault in his character is his injustice to Pecksniff. You mustn't mind a word he says on that subject. His prejudice is most extraordinary. 'The absence of anything like prejudice on Tom's part, you know, said John Westlock, laughing heartily, as he laid his hand on Mr Pinch's shoulder, 'is perfectly wonderful.
'And what's more, Tom, said John Westlock, seating himself upon a pile of books, and looking up at his astonished friend, 'he is evidently not coming back again; so here you are, installed. Under rather singular circumstances, Tom!
Mr Westlock came at the same time, but he was not admitted, the disorder being infectious. The doctor came too. The doctor shook his head. It was all he could do, under the circumstances, and he did it well. 'What sort of a night, nurse? 'Restless, sir, said Mrs Gamp. 'Talk much? 'Middling, sir, said Mrs Gamp. 'Nothing to the purpose, I suppose? 'Oh bless you, no, sir. Only jargon.
And behold, on the first floor, at the court-end of the house, in a room with all the window-curtains drawn, a fire piled half-way up the chimney, plates warming before it, wax candles gleaming everywhere, and a table spread for three, with silver and glass enough for thirty John Westlock; not the old John of Pecksniff's, but a proper gentleman; looking another and a grander person, with the consciousness of being his own master and having money in the bank; and yet in some respects the old John too, for he seized Tom Pinch by both his hands the instant he appeared, and fairly hugged him, in his cordial welcome.
Mr Westlock could tell me, I have no doubt, but I'll not ask him, for he is bribed. Health to wear them, my dear, and happiness to make you forgetful of them, except as a remembrance from a loving friend! He patted her upon the cheek, and said to Tom: 'I must play the part of a father here, Tom, also.
With reference to your duties, I can set you going; and with reference to your salary, I can pay it. Weekly, said Mr Fips, putting down the wafer-stamp, and looking at John Westlock and Tom Pinch by turns, 'weekly; in this office; at any time between the hours of four and five o'clock in the afternoon. As Mr Fips said this, he made up his face as if he were going to whistle. But he didn't.
The Temple is a public thoroughfare; they may write up on the gates that it is not, but so long as the gates are left open it is, and will be; and Mr Westlock had as good a right to be there as anybody else. But why did she run away, then? Not being ill dressed, for she was much too neat for that, why did she run away?
It was well he had John Westlock for his companion, for most people would have been weary of his perpetual stoppages at shop-windows, and his frequent dashes into the crowded carriage-way at the peril of his life, to get the better view of church steeples, and other public buildings.
And a mighty yellow-jaundiced little office Mr Fips had of it; with a great, black, sprawling splash upon the floor in one corner, as if some old clerk had cut his throat there, years ago, and had let out ink instead of blood. 'I have brought my friend Mr Pinch, sir, said John Westlock. 'Be pleased to sit, said Mr Fips.
'Thank you, my love, said Mr Chuzzlewit. 'But I am afraid I must take Tom a little out of the way, on business. Suppose you go on first, my dear? Pretty little Ruth was equally delighted to do that. 'But not alone, said Martin, 'not alone. Mr Westlock, I dare say, will escort you. Why, of course he would: what else had Mr Westlock in his mind? How dull these old men are!
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