'Well, my dear Sir, we won't waste time in splitting straws,' resumed the little man, 'say—say—seventy.'
Won't do,' said Mr. Jingle.
'Don't go away, my dear sir—pray don't hurry,' said the little man. 'Eighty; come: I'll write you a cheque at once.'
'Won't do,' said Mr. Jingle.
'Well, my dear Sir, well,' said the little man, still detaining him; 'just tell me what will do.'
'Expensive affair,' said Mr. Jingle. 'Money out of pocket—posting, nine pounds; licence, three—that's twelve—compensation, a hundred—hundred and twelve—breach of honour—and loss of the lady—'