Chiffield, and being told that he was a partner in
a large drygoods house, would instantly think, "That drygoods house will
stand in the midst of fires, earthquakes, and financial revulsions."
With that fine instinct peculiar to lovers, Matthew Maltboy immediately
recognized in Mr. Chiffield a rival--and a dangerous one. Having seen
much of society, Maltboy was well aware that Mr. Chiffield's mature age,
his grim appearance, his sparse whiskers, and even the bald spot on the
top of his head, were eminent advantages with which youth and bloom, and
a full head of hair could not cope--unless with the aid of that
fascination which Matthew flattered himself that he possessed, and
which, he thought, he had used to some purpose during his hurried
conversation with his twentieth enslaver, Miss Whedell. The usages of
New Year's day, as well as frequent impatient nods from Quigg, and
suggestive coughs from Overtop, would not permit of his staying longer.
He therefore, rose to take his leave, his fellow pilgrims doing
likewise, when Miss Whedell remarked that they were in a great hurry,
and regretted that they could not remain a few minutes more.
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