said these words; and when she dried her eyes, and shook her head
and her handkerchief at Tugby, with an expression of firmness which
it was quite clear was not to be easily resisted, Trotty said,
'Bless her! Bless her!'

Then he listened, with a panting heart, for what should follow.
Knowing nothing yet, but that they spoke of Meg.

If Tugby had been a little elevated in the parlour, he more than
balanced that account by being not a little depressed in the shop,
where he now stood staring at his wife, without attempting a reply;
secretly conveying, however--either in a fit of abstraction or as a
precautionary measure--all the money from the till into his own
pockets, as he looked at her.

The gentleman upon the table-beer cask, who appeared to be some
authorised medical attendant upon the poor, was far too well
accustomed, evidently, to little differences of opinion between man
and wife, to interpose any remark in this instance. He sat softly
whistling, and turning little drops of beer out of the tap upon the
ground, until there was a perfect calm: when he raised his head,
and said to Mrs. Tugby, late Chickenstalker:

'There's something interesting about the woman, even now. How did
she come to marry him?'

'Why that,' said Mrs. Tugby, taking a seat near him, 'is not the
least cruel part of her story, sir. You see they kept company, she
and Richard, many years ago. When they were a young and beautiful
couple, everything was settled, and they were to have been married