“Of Mr. Casby?” said Clennam. “He’s a fine old fellow.” “Noble old boy; an’t he?” said Mr. Pancks, entering on a series of the dryest of snorts. “Generous old buck. Confiding old boy. Philanthropic old buck. Benevolent old boy! Twenty per cent I engaged to pay him, sir. But we never do business for less, at our shop.” Arthur felt an awkward consciousness of having, in his exultant condition, been a little premature.
