But let him dress
plainly, as I do," continued Mr. Tiffles, stroking down the left leg of
his black trowsers, shiny with wear, "and that little diamond shall
stand, in the eyes of the whole world, as the representative of a fat
bank account, a brown stone house, and a couple of corner lots."
Marcus and Matthew laughed, but Fayette Overtop, who absolutely revelled
in paradoxes, said, "True, Tiffles, true!"
"Don't think," pursued Tiffles, "that I expected to impose on you with
it. You know that I am a poor devil, living on my wits." (Tiffles was
delightfully frank with his intimate acquaintances.) "I hold out this
glittering bait, not for my friends, but for my old foe and natural
enemy, the world. You must know that I am on the eve of a grand
speculation--probably the grandest I have ever undertaken."
"Another plan of advertising with large kites by day, and pictorial
lanterns attached to their tails at night?" asked Marcus Wilkeson.
"Or another Submarine Pneumatic Parcel-Delivering Tube to Brooklyn?"
asked Matthew Maltboy.
"Or an Association for the Cultivation of Mushrooms in Dark Cellars?"
asked Fayette Overtop.
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