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Descriptive of an affecting Interview between Mr. Samuel Weller and a Family Party. Mr. Pickwick mak

           

           ‘Thingshasalteredwithme,sir,’saidJob.

           ‘Ishouldthinktheyhad,’exclaimedMr.Weller,surveyinghiscompanion’sragswithundisguisedwonder.‘Thisisraytherachangefortheworse,Mr.Trotter,asthegen’l’m’nsaid,wenhegottwodoubtfulshillin’sandsixpenn’ortho’pocket-piecesforagoodhalf-crown.’

           ‘Itisindeed,’repliedJob,shakinghishead.‘Thereisnodeceptionnow,Mr.Weller.Tears,’saidJob,withalookofmomentaryslyness‘tearsarenottheonlyproofsofdistress,northebestones.’

           ‘No,theyain’t,’repliedSamexpressively.

           ‘Theymaybeputon,Mr.Weller,’saidJob.

           ‘Iknowtheymay,’saidSam;‘somepeople,indeed,has’emalwaysreadylaidon,andcanpullouttheplugwenevertheylikes.’

           ‘Yes,’repliedJob;‘butthesesortofthingsarenotsoeasilycounterfeited,Mr.Weller,anditisamorepainfulprocesstogetthemup.’Ashespoke,hepointedtohissallow,sunkencheeks,and,drawinguphiscoatsleeve,disclosedanarmwhichlookedasifthebonecouldbebrokenatatouch,sosharpandbrittlediditappear,beneathitsthincoveringofflesh.

           ‘Wothaveyoubeena-doin’toyourself?’saidSam,recoiling.

           ‘Nothing,’repliedJob.

           ‘Nothin’!’echoedSam.

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