Page 959 - bleak-house

‘No, I am not.’
‘Would you make the attempt, though single,’ says Mr.
Snagsby in a melancholy whisper, ‘to speak as low as you
can? For my little woman is a-listening somewheres, or I’ll
forfeit the business and five hundred pound!’
In deep dejection Mr. Snagsby sits down on his stool,
with his back against his desk, protesting, ‘I never had a se-
cret of my own, sir. I can’t charge my memory with ever
having once attempted to deceive my little woman on my
own account since she named the day. I wouldn’t have done
it, sir. Not to put too fine a point upon it, I couldn’t have
done it, I dursn’t have done it. Whereas, and nevertheless,
I find myself wrapped round with secrecy and mystery, till
my life is a burden to me.’
His visitor professes his regret to bear it and asks him
does he remember Jo. Mr. Snagsby answers with a sup-
pressed groan, oh, don’t he!
‘You couldn’t name an individual human being—except
myself—that my little woman is more set and determined
against than Jo,’ says Mr. Snagsby.
Allan asks why.
‘Why?’ repeats Mr. Snagsby, in his desperation clutch-
ing at the clump of hair at the back of his bald head. ‘How
should 1 know why? But you are a single person, sir, and
may you long be spared to ask a married person such a ques-
tion!’
With this beneficent wish, Mr. Snagsby coughs a cough
of dismal resignation and submits himself to hear what the
visitor has to communicate.

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