Mr. Grewgious, bolt upright as usual, sat taking his wine in the
dusk at his open window; his wineglass and decanter on the round
table at his elbow; himself and his legs on the window-seat; only
one hinge in his whole body, like a bootjack.
'How do you do, reverend sir?' said Mr. Grewgious, with abundant
offers of hospitality, which were as cordially declined as made.
'And how is your charge getting on over the way in the set that I
had the pleasure of recommending to you as vacant and eligible?'
Mr. Crisparkle replied suitably.
'I am glad you approve of them,' said Mr. Grewgious, 'because I
entertain a sort of fancy for having him under my eye.'
As Mr. Grewgious had to turn his eye up considerably before he
could see the chambers, the phrase was to be taken figuratively and
not literally.
'And how did you leave Mr. Jasper, reverend sir?' said Mr.
Grewgious.
Mr. Crisparkle had left him pretty well.
'And where did you leave Mr. Jasper, reverend sir?' Mr. Crisparkle
had left him at Cloisterham.
'And when did you leave Mr. Jasper, reverend sir?' That morning.
'Umps!' said Mr. Grewgious. 'He didn't say he was coming,
perhaps?'
'Coming where?'
'Anywhere, for instance?' said Mr. Grewgious.
'No.'
'Because here he is,' said Mr. Grewgious, who had asked all these
questions, with his preoccupied glance directed out at window.
'And he don't look agreeable, does he?'
Mr.
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