returned Martin, 'as because my grandfather has an inveterate dislike to
him, and after the old man's arbitrary treatment of me, I had a natural
desire to run as directly counter to all his opinions as I could. Well!
As I said before, here I am. My engagement with the young lady I have
been telling you about is likely to be a tolerably long one; for neither
her prospects nor mine are very bright; and of course I shall not think
of marrying until I am well able to do so. It would never do, you know,
for me to be plunging myself into poverty and shabbiness and love in one
room up three pair of stairs, and all that sort of thing.'

'To say nothing of her,' remarked Tom Pinch, in a low voice.

'Exactly so,' rejoined Martin, rising to warm his back, and leaning
against the chimney-piece. 'To say nothing of her. At the same time,
of course it's not very hard upon her to be obliged to yield to the
necessity of the case; first, because she loves me very much; and
secondly, because I have sacrificed a great deal on her account, and
might have done much better, you know.'

It was a very long time before Tom said 'Certainly;' so long, that he
might have taken a nap in the interval, but he did say it at last.

'Now, there is one odd coincidence connected with this love-story,' said
Martin, 'which brings it to an end. You remember what you told me last
night as we were coming here, about your pretty visitor in the church?'

'Surely I do,' said Tom, rising from his stool, and seating himself in
the chair from which the other had lately risen, that he might see his
face. 'Undoubtedly.'